You're Pretty Messed Up Too
by Svendances
Summary: Things were going so well for our favourite Bombshell Bounty Hunter, until her life seemed to take an abrupt death spiral. Can Stephanie Manoso overcome wheel problems, stray animals and her subconscious to help a mysterious stranger?
1. Prologue

_Hello and welcome to a new story. I hope you find it intriguing enouguh to continue to read as it grows and blossoms. _

_As usual, my standard disclaimers apply. I don't own the characters or the world they live in, I'm just using them to keep my mind occupied. _

**_You're Pretty Messed Up Too_**

**Prologue**

Ricardo Carlos Manoso felt a familiar tingle run all the way up his spine and knew without doubt that his shadows were once again attempting to creep up on him. It was one of their many favourite activities, right up there with eating cereal in their pyjamas while watching cartoons and getting dirty. They weren't especially good creepers, and the fact that he could sense their presence didn't make things any easier, but the thrill of crawling through bushes, rolling under sofas and hiding behind things was enough to keep them entertained for hours. And isn't that every parent's dream?

A slight noise over by the pile of timber alerted him to his sons' proximity and he casually set down the power saw he'd been using, ensuring the safety was on, just in case little fingers went places they ought not to go. He was brushing his hands off on his faded black jeans when two sets of arms wrapped tightly around his legs. Not bothering to acknowledge his new accessories, he picked up his tape measure and double checked the length of the timber he'd just cut. Perfect, just as he'd suspected. Still ignoring the two klingons he walked slowly over to the timber pile to pick up a new length. It was slow going, given his leg weights, and by the time he'd made it to the pile a black SUV had pulled to the curb and three men had spilled out.

"You're walking a bit stiff there, Boss," Bobby commented, giving his professional opinion. "Maybe I should take a look at your legs, make sure nothing's going on down there."

"That'd be great, Bobby," Carlos responded, forgoing the timber as his company medic jumped the fence and met him in the middle of the front yard. "They're just feeling a bit heavy today," he explained, smiling slightly as Bobby crouched down to examine the problem.

"Yep," he said, straightening up after a few quick pokes and prods at the boys. "It's just as I suspected. You've got a couple of growths. Nothing serious, but I would suggest removing them. I'll have my assistants do the procedure and you'll be good as new before you know it."

At Bobby's nod, Tank and Lester swooped in from opposite sides, reefing the twins from his legs and dumping them unceremoniously on the grass. The boys struggled to get up as the men kept pushing them back down, even pinning them to the ground with a booted foot.

"We've got wrigglers, Sir," Lester announced. "How should we proceed?"

"Neutralise," Carlos commanded and in the next moment the air was alive with peals of laughter.

When both boys were completely lost in giggles, they were left there to pull themselves together while the men gathered around the plans Carlos had drawn up the earlier in the week. They were discussing details and division of labour when the two terrors rejoined them.

"What are you doing, Dad?" Matias enquired, pushing into the middle of their little circle.

His twin brother, Eduardo, attempted to do the same from the other side of the gathering, choosing the small gap between Lester and Bobby as his point of entry. Unfortunately, neither adult seemed inclined to let him in, refusing to budge even an inch. Edi was persistent, though, and didn't mind stretching his face out of shape as he tried to force his way in. He was leaning forward to put more weight behind his efforts when Bobby decided to relent. He stepped to the side just slightly, and the small child was thrown forward with enough force to knock his brother to the ground. They both grunted from the impact, but since no harm was done, continued with their shared train of thought.

"Can we help?" they asked enthusiastically from the ground.

Carlos eyed the pair critically, taking in their stubborn curls sticking out in all directions like wayward springs, their hopeful expressions, and finally their flip-flop clad feet. Having made up his mind, he instructed, "Get your boots on and grab your tool belts." And the boys were off running for the hall closet.

The men watched them go before returning their attention to the plans and the pile of timber. "So it's really happening?" Lester asked. "She's coming home?"

"Of course she's coming home," Bobby replied. "It's been three months, she's not getting any better, and she's not getting any worse. And she probably misses the boys like crazy."

Tank, scrutinized the diagrams and blueprints he held with a closed expression on his face. He didn't like Steph being injured any more than the rest of them. "But she's still not walking," he said flatly, not phrasing it as a question since the answer was right in front of him. Why would they be building a wheelchair ramp to the front porch if Steph could walk? They wouldn't. So the plans and the pile of wood were all the answer he needed.

Steph had been struggling to overcome her injuries for months now, and despite the doctors' assessment that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her legs, that they had recovered just fine, she was still unable to walk. No one could figure out why, though there were a lot of theories flying around. Carlos had hoped that he could avoid the necessity of a ramp if Steph could improve enough that she could at least walk with assistance, but alas, the time had come that she was insisting on coming home. He had put off the build as long as possible.

"What are we making?" Eduardo asked, clomping down the front steps as he fastened his tool belt.

"Can I pound something?" Matias requested, holding up his hammer. "I'm good at hitting things."

"What are we making?" Edi reiterated.

"We're making a ramp for Mommy," Carlos informed his sons. "You can help Uncle Lester dig the holes for the poles."

The boys got twin looks of confusion as they gazed around the front yard, causing Carlos to suppress a sigh, he'd been trying to explain the situation for two days now, but their constant questions meant that he was never quite sure he got the message through to them. Now was one of those times. Sure enough, the questions began anew.

"Where's Mommy?" Mat asked.

"Why does she need a ramp?" Edi added.

"Yeah," Mat said. "I thought you said she wasn't coming home until she was better."

So apparently they had listened and absorb some of what he'd said, but not enough to understand properly. Thankfully, Bobby took over trying to explain things.

"Mommy needs a ramp because her legs still aren't working properly," he informed them patiently. "Remember when you went to visit her last month and she let you ride up and down the hall with her in her wheelchair?" The boys nodded. "Well when she comes homes tomorrow she'll still be in the chair so we're going to build a ramp so that she can get into the house. Isn't that nice?"

"Where's it going to go?" they asked. Lester spun them around and pointed them toward the freshly turned dirt Carlos had prepared that morning. "Wow!" they exclaimed, hurrying over to the area that had previously been filled with blooming bushes. Matias knelt down, running his fingers through the soft dirt while Eduardo ran back and forth across it, packing it down. "This is awesome!"

The men exchanged looks. "We probably should have started this sooner," Tank pointed out. "With the boys helping it'll probably take twice as long."

Carlos shook his head. "Steph won't mind if she has to wait an extra day if she knows that the boys helped make it for her."

* * *

_If you want to find out more, let me know in a review._


	2. Chapter 1

_So it occured to me as I started this chapter that it's been a while since I've actually written story that was predominantly about Steph. Lately my main characters have been teenage girls, so I found it bizarre to be writing froim Steph's POV to begin with, but I think I got the hang of it again._

**Chapter 1**

"Why didn't you bring the boys?" I asked as we approached the Porsche in the parking lot of the facility that had practically been home for the last three months. It had taken me a week to convince Carlos that I really was ready to come home. He was of the mind that I should stay there, where the professionals can help me, until I can walk again. It's easy for him to say. He's used to being away from the real world. Away from the things and people he loves. Each day I'd spent inside that glorified prison was utter torture. Being away from my boys for so long was killing me. Fortnightly visits just weren't enough to keep me satisfied.

Speaking of satisfied. Carlos was never going to be satisfied unless he was seeing that all my needs were met and that I was taken care of. Hence, the argument I'd lost when we started to leave and he insisted on pushing my chair. And I just knew that once we reached the Porsche he was going to lift me up and deposit me in the front passenger seat. If he had his way I would never lift a single finger, let alone let me heft myself into the car. This was going to be a constant struggle; a hard learning curve for him. He had to let me do things for myself, no matter how much it pained him.

"They're helping the guys back at home," Carlos informed me, parking my chair next to the car and coming around in front of me to unlock the passenger side door. "I asked them to come but they wanted to make sure things were ready for you."

I smiled. My boys were so thoughtful, but I would have preferred they come to bring me home. I was looking forward to seeing their faces light up when they realised that I really was coming home with them. Finally. I'm not going to lie; I was disappointed when Carlos walked through that door alone. Now, he moved to lift me from my chair without so much as a word and I knew that asserting myself where he was concerned was going to be hard, but I had to start now or I'd never get around to it.

"Carlos," I said, putting my hand on his arm to still his actions. "Let me do it myself." I could tell he was going to argue the point again, so I added, "Please?" As much as he didn't like it, he nodded shortly, and stepped back, allowing me to do my thing. I'd never done a chair to car before, but I was confident that it wouldn't be too different to any other thing I'd heft myself onto in the past. It took me a moment to figure out the best way to go about it, but eventually I was in and Carlos was stowing the wheelchair in the backseat.

The ride home was spent, for the most part, in our usual companionable silence. I turned the radio on about half an hour into the drive, keeping the volume low enough that we could talk if we so chose. We didn't. And for the first time in weeks I found myself thinking about the accident.

_I was on my way back to my parent's house after a long and busy day. The backseat was filled with packages I needed to take to the office that I was mentally rearranging, Tetris style so that they would all fit in the trunk with the groceries so that the boys had room to sit when I picked them up. I was so distracted by the packages and the new to do list that was forming in my head that I had no idea what was happening until suddenly I was trapped in the car with a truck across my hood._

_I couldn't move from the waist down, my legs pinned under the weight of the car. It didn't hurt, at least not yet, but it was uncomfortable, and I was pretty sure it would hurt the moment I stopped thinking about the things I needed to do. Like call my parents. Automatically, I reached for my phone I kept in the console of the car and dialled my parents' home._

_"Frank speaking," my dad's voice travelled down the line._

_"Daddy? It's Stephanie," I said, trying to make sure my voice remained calm and even. I knew all too well the tremble I got when I scared or upset and I didn't need Dad to be worried right now._

_"Pumpkin?" he questioned, speaking louder than he had originally. "Where are you? I can barely hear you over the commotion in the background."_

_I took a deep breath, closing my eyes so I wasn't tempted to look at said commotion and start to freak out. "Something came up and I'm not going to be able to pick up the boys until much later," I explained, matching his volume so he could hear me. "Are you alright to keep them a while longer?"_

_"Of course, Stephanie," he said instantly. "We'd be happy to. Your mother is in the kitchen fattening them up with cookies right now."_

_I smiled. Mom and her cookies. She could get you to do anything with those cookies. Homework, housework, the works. "If it gets too much call control and one of the guys will pick them up and take them to Ella," I reminded, knowing that they would never call for Ella to take over, but also aware that they were getting on in years and sometimes they got a little worn down._

_"We'll be fine, Pumpkin," he assured me. "You just take care of yourself."_

_We said good bye and I hung up just in time to keep him from hearing the approaching sirens. Then suddenly everything was hectic, I couldn't keep up with everything that was going on. There was shouting all around me, buzzing and whining and creaking. I was hauled out of the car and strapped to a stretcher and then suddenly Carlos was there, holding my hand and muttering soothing Spanish. I had no idea what he was saying and was having trouble concentrating on his voice with the pain screaming through me._

I was pulled from my memories by a squeeze on my hand as we turned into our street. "Don't be mad," Carlos stated when I glanced up at him, "But the guys wanted to welcome you home." He nodded out the windscreen and I followed his gaze to the black SUV parked in front of our house. "It's just Tank, Bobby and Lester," he explained. "I didn't want to overwhelm you. I told the rest they could wait until you were ready to go in to the office and they could welcome you back then."

Silly man, didn't he understand I was perfectly capable of handling a dozen or so men invading my home to show their appreciation of me? He was being extra thoughtful, though, so I couldn't very well come right out and say anything against it. Instead, I smiled and laid a hand on his thigh. "Thank you," I said, giving a little squeeze.

The moment we pulled into the driveway, the boys came racing out onto the front porch, big grins on their faces with their damp hair flying all over the place. They were excited to see me, but not as excited as I was to be home with them once more. Before even Carlos could get his seatbelt off, they were at my door, wrenching it open and climbing in to sit on my lap and hug me.

"We made a ramp for you," Matias informed me, placing a big sloppy kiss on my cheek.

"And lunch," Eduardo added.

"Peanut butter and olive sandwiches," they said together.

"Well then we better get inside and eat them before the uncles do, huh?" I enthused, hearing the back car door close as Carlos retrieved my chair and set it up for me. "Off you get, Mommy's gotta get out of this car." The boys moved out of the way and ran halfway up the ramp while Carlos positioned the chair for me and I hauled my ass into it. Before he has a chance to do it for me, I rolled back just enough to close the door myself and then spun around to head to the ramp.

The boys were still halfway up when I started my way up, standing and pointing down at the boards below them. "We hammered these ones," Edi said. "And we didn't even hit our fingers like Uncle Lester did."

"I'm sure they're the most stable of them all," I told them knowingly, glad to see that as soon as I acknowledged their achievements that they hurried the rest of the way up to the porch, clearing my path. Carlos, I noticed, walked a few steps behind me, as if he thought I might lose my momentum and start rolling backward. I did a mental eye roll at his protective nature. I loved it and all, and it had kept me safe for years, but he knew I could do this on my own, I'd proven it to him last week. I didn't need his safety net.

As I followed the boys into the house I couldn't help but notice it was immaculate. The toys that usually littered the hall had been put away. The dirty sock pile that was usually next to the muddy shoes were missing. Even the stubborn scuff marks on the walls and floors were gone. The whole house had a fresh, lemony scent about it. I had to wonder how long it would last. The bigger question on my mind though, was who had done all the cleaning? God knows I've never seen Carlos with a mop or broom in hand. Don't get me wrong, I know he pulls his weight in keeping the house spick and span, but in seven years of marriage, I'd never once caught him in the act. My theory was he did it either when I wasn't home, or before I got up in the morning.

I carefully manoeuvred my chair through the doorway to the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of my three favourite Merry Men standing under a homemade banner that read, "Welcome home, Mommy!" while the twins climbed up onto chairs to stand in front of them.

"On the count of three," Tank murmured when I came to a stop in front of them. "One, two, three."

"Welcome home, Mommy!" the boys yelled, throwing their hands in the air at the same moment the guys shouted, "Welcome home, Steph!"

"Lunch time!" Mat and Edi cried. I watched with a warm smile as they jumped off their chairs like synchronised pencil divers and ran to the fridge. Edi pulled it open and Mat reached in to grab a large platter filled with cut up sandwiches – it was pretty apparent they'd made them with minimal help – and carried it to the kitchen table. Once Mat was out of the way, Edi reached in and carefully brought over a pitcher of what looked like purple kool-aid. Meanwhile, the men took their seats and Carlos moved a chair away from the table to make room for me. He looked like he wanted to guid me into place as well, but I shook my head briefly, silently telling him that I could do it myself. His fist clenched at his side to show he wasn't happy about it, but he let me wheel myself into the space he'd created between Mat and Edi without comment.

Throughout lunch, I listened alternately to the stories and recounted tales of my sons and those of the men. I was amused to see that they were all eating the sandwiches the boys had made, despite the fact that they usually screwed up their noses when I offered them peanut butter and olives, and drinking the purple kool-aid.

"Is my tongue purple?" Lester asked, poking it out for everyone to examine. When we all confirmed that it had been stained by the grape flavoured drink his eyes got wide and he turned to Bobby. "You gotta help me, man!" he exclaimed. "I'm sick! I'm gonna die!"

"Relax, Uncle Les," Edi told him, grinning from ear to ear. "We've all got it, see?" And he and his brother both stuck their tongues out at him.

"Oh no!" Lester lamented. "Not you, too! You're too young to die!" He turned to Tank and Bobby who both revealed their purple tongues and I kindly obliged when he looked my way, but then he turned to Carlos who simply raised an eyebrow.

"Show us your tongue, Dad!" Mat encouraged around his latest bite of sandwich. "Stick it out!"

Carlos made no move to even open his mouth. I'd seen him drinking the purple sugar water, so I knew his tongue was just as purple as everyone else's, all we had to do was trick him into showing it.

Edi knelt up on his chair and began pressing at his cheeks and pulling at his lips in an attempt to get him to open his mouth. All that got him, however, were a few playful nips at his fingers. Mat came around the table next and tried to tickle him into submission, but after a few moments, Carlos turned the tables and Mat ended up in a laughing fit on the floor. I knew it was up to me.

I made like I was about to wheel myself back away from the table, which immediately had the men's attention. Bobby, Tank and Lester all opened their mouths to ask what I needed, but before they could get their words out, I'd locked eyes with my husband. "Carlos?" I said in a small voice and had to quickly suppress a smile as he appeared, knelt at my side in the next instant.

"What is it?" he asked eagerly, seeming happy that I was apparently asking his assistance after having refused it so adamantly earlier.

"Open your mouth," I commanded, a wicked grin creeping onto my features. I simply couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Ba-," he started to protest, but I'd grabbed his face, digging my finger tips into his cheeks to wedge them between his teeth and prevent his from closing his mouth. If there was one useful skill I'd picked up from being a mother, it would have to be this one. If I had a dollar for all the marbles I'd fished out of the boys' mouths while executing this hold, I'd have enough to buy a new pair of knee high C'est Bon boots.

"Stick out your tongue," I instructed my husband. He had no choice but to obey, letting his purple stained tongue inch out from between his perfect lips. "There you go, boys," I announced, and all five of them erupted in cheers as I turned his face for them to see.

When lunch was over the Merry Men insisted on doing the washing up for me, whereas the boys decided it was play time - apparently the novelty of having me home wore off right around the time I insisted they go wash their face and hands. So that left Carlos and I at the table to engage the busy men in conversation.

"It's good to have you home where you belong," the guys assured me as they prepared to leave. They each hugged me in the hall before moving to the front porch where Carlos was waiting to do their complicated secret handshake.

I followed them out and waited until they were walking down the path to their SUV before calling out, "Tell the guys I'll see them tomorrow."

They spun around with identical big goofy grins on their faces and mock saluted me before practically skipping to the car. Okay, so they definitely weren't skipping, but there was certainly an extra little spring to their steps.

Carlos turned to face me when the SUV had turned the corner. "Are you sure you'll be okay to go into the office tomorrow?" he asked, clearly mistaking me for some weaker person.

"I'm in a wheelchair, Carlos, not sick," I responded coolly, spinning myself around to go back inside. "Besides, I have to now; they'll be expecting me."

"Babe, they'll understand if you want to settle in at home first."

I stopped my chair just inside the door and twisted my body around to give him 'The Look.' "Ricardo Carlos Manoso, do not for one second think that just because I'm stuck in a chair means I'm just going to stay around the house all day. I've spent three months doing not much more than that, far away from everyone I love. I need to get out there. Get back in routine. Besides, the twins have school tomorrow, so I'd be here by myself."

"If you're sure," he said uncertainly, giving me one last chance to get out of it. _Fat chance._

"I promise I'll be fine," I vowed, putting my hand over his as he placed it on the back of my chair. "And if I get too overwhelmed – which isn't going to happen, just for your information – I can always go up to the seventh floor apartment for some quiet time." He gave me a nod that he understood that he wasn't going to get his way on this and I turned back around to continue my way inside. "Oh," I called over my shoulder. "Remind me to talk to Tank about a driver roster for me."

"Babe," he said, which I took to mean, "I can drive you anywhere you want to go," but I knew better. He couldn't be there all the time, and I needed some semblance of independence.

"You have a business to run and clients to tend to, Carlos. You can't be ferrying me around every second of the day. The guys are gonna want to be able to do something to help out, and this is the best solution I can come up with. We'll split it into half day shifts and you can commandeer any shift you like at a moment's notice, but you have work you need to do and I don't want to keep you from it. Understood?"

* * *

_Thanks for all the interest you showed last chapter, keep it up if you want to see more._


	3. Chapter 2

_*Instert random vocal noises here* I have had a devil of a day. So I left for work, everything was going fine. Got on the train. Train exploded above my head and we all had to get off and wait for the next one to come. Finally got to the right station, started walking up the hill to the bus interchange. A woman asks me for directions, so I stopped to help her. Those thirty seconds cost me the bus I needed to catch, making me late for work. That's what I get for helping people. But in saying that, I got a chapter written. So all's well that ends well, I guess._

**Chapter 2**

I wheeled myself out of the supermarket with a grin on my face, something that rarely happened, especially when I had the boys with me. We'd managed to get through the entire grocery shop without a temper tantrum from any one of us. Not even me. And on top of that, I'd managed it by myself, in my chair. Ranger had told me to leave the groceries, that he would l do the shopping on the weekend, but I knew I had to prove to him that I could be just as independent as I was before the accident, with the exception of the fact that I couldn't drive myself about. I know he wasn't happy about the Merry Men driving me about, but it was only because he wanted to be the one to aid me in whatever I needed. I could handle looking after the boys. I could handle the odd errand. And I could keep the household in working order as much as I used to. I wasn't saying I was Wonder Woman all of a sudden, but I wasn't an invalid.

The boys were walking in front of me, pushing the miniature trolleys we'd used instead of the one regular sized one we would normally have utilised, and I called to them not to get too far ahead just as a massive explosion blasted hot air in our direction. When I regained my bearings, caught off guard by the blast, I was relieved to see that the boys had stopped dead in their tracks, directly in front of me. They were marvelling over the great plume of smoke now emanating from the approximate space where Woody had parked the car.

Sighing, I wasted no time calling the control room to let them know that the boys and I were fine, knowing that they would be extra vigilant on my vehicle tracker watch given that I couldn't exactly run from an explosion. As an extra measure, I called Carlos to tell him directly; since he would probably call to make sure I was alright anyway. He informed me that the guys would have called emergency services for me, and that he would be by my side in ten minutes. This caused another sigh to fall from my lips, but I couldn't deny him, especially since he'd already hung up on me.

I herded the boys over to a nearby bench so they could sit and eat the treats I'd gotten them for being so well behaved while we waited for things to start happening apart from the panicked commotion of the parking lot, and had just ensured that the trolleys weren't going to roll away when a muttered curse met my ears. From my new vantage point, I had a better view of the explosion site and could see that it had involved two cars. The poor guy was probably the owner of the unfortunate car next to mine.

"Was that red car yours?" I asked sympathetically, reminding the boys to stay put as I wheeled over next to him.

He shook his head, his shoulders seeming to droop. "Nay," he replied in what sounded to me to be a Scottish accent. "'Twas a rental." His lilting speech was so mesmerising that I almost missed what he'd said.

Laying a hand on his forearm in an attempt to soothe him, I commented, "I'm sorry." He looked down at me and I was met with the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen. It was like staring into the crystal blue waters of the Pacific Island Carlos had taken me to on our honeymoon cruise. With those eyes and that voice he could hypnotise people into doing whatever he wanted. The man let out a soft chuckle that had me blinking in confusion up at him. "Huh?" I uttered in all my American eloquence.

"I'm no' in the habit of hypnotising people, luv," he assured me, a twinkle in his magical eyes.

Without thinking about what I was saying, I suddenly found myself in a ramble, unable to stop. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Maybe you should consider this a little more carefully. I mean, take your car, for example. Use your charms on the rental people and maybe you can convince them to not make you pay for the destruction of their vehicle."

"Doona fash yerself," he said kindly, patting my hand, which I now realised was still on his arm. I quickly snatched it away as he continued speaking. "With the luck I have, I paid for the extra insurance," he informed me pleasantly. "They'll replace it even if it's, what's the word, totalled?"

"I know what you mean," I agreed. "I've lost count of how many of my cars have blown up."

Strangely, his eyes narrowed at my statement, like he was trying to work out a complex math problem. I contemplated asking if anything was wrong, but was slightly distracted by Woody's pounding footsteps as he ran full pelt down the sidewalk toward us. Just as he caught sight of me and the boys and began to slow, the man next to me turned to face me fully, extended his hand and introduced himself. "Brodie," he said.

"Stephanie," I reciprocated, gripping his hand firmly. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you," he responded immediately. "I doona want you to think me crazy," he started cautiously. "But could you take a look at a crossword puzzle for me? I believe you could help."

I couldn't help the laughter that spilled from my throat at his request. Someone asking me for help with a crossword puzzle was like asking a kitten for help untangling a ball of yarn. Completely useless and often frustrating. When I'd calmed a bit I saw that there was honest hope in his gaze, and I just couldn't outright deny him. "Okay," I agreed. "I'll take a look, but I'm not making any promises. I'm useless at these things." As I finished my warning he produced a piece of paper with a flourish and I obediently took and looked it over. I'd been expecting a puzzle book or part of a newspaper, but instead what I got was a piece of computer paper with a hand drawn grid and clues written in crisp, even, cursive below. "What is this?" I asked before even glancing at the clues.

"My father fancied himself a funny man," Brodie informed me, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "This is what he left me in his will when he died."

Staring up at him, I tried to work out if he was being serious or pulling one of my non-functioning legs. I wasn't that great at reading people, though, so I had to ask in the end. "This is all he left you?"

"That piece of paper and his cottage," he amended.

"And you seriously think I can help with it?"

"Our cars were just blown up together," he said, like that explained his reasoning in plain English. "It feels right."

By this time, Woody had reached us and was watching out exchange with all the suspicion of a man who was well aware that his ass was grass if anything happened to me or the boys. "Are you alright, Bomber," he asked, barely glancing in my direction.

"Fine," I assured him. "I called control and they would have gotten in contact with emergency services. And Ranger should be here any minute."

"Great," he said, still staring at Brodie. "Awesome. One request?"

"Anything."

"Call me next time too? I was scared to death when I saw the smoke."

"Of course, Woody," I agreed. "Why don't you go keep an eye on the boys? I left them with the shopping and if no one's watching them they'll probably find the ice cream."

As Woody nodded and headed over to the bench, I followed his progress with my eyes, feeling the need to make sure he did as I asked. Of course, that's the most irrational thought in the world; the men always do what they're told. It was just that sometimes they did it in their own way, or they added their own little mini commands in their heads. When I returned my attention to Brodie he too was watching my man in black and children.

"Husband?" he asked in a conversational tone.

"Designated driver," I corrected, regretting the words when his gaze dropped to my legs and a look of understanding came over his face. It was the first time someone had looked at me like that that I was aware of and I suddenly felt the need to make light of the situation. Unfortunately the only jokes I could think of implied that I was drunk, and considering I had two young boys with me, I wasn't sure that was the best course of action. Thankfully, though, I was saved from the awkwardness of the moment that had sprung up between us as two fire trucks, three police cars and two Rangeman SUVs pulled into the lot and in the next instant I was surrounded.

"Steph!" Bog Dog greeted, giving me a fist bump – yeah, I thought it was weird at the time too.

Carl Constanza was right behind him, positively beaming at me."You wanna warn us you're back in town before you pull a stunt like this?" he teased. "We've missed out on a real cash grab opportunity here!"

"Sorry guys," I apologised, but it was hard to work up the corresponding emotion when there was a grin fighting to get free. "I was going to come and visit," I tried.

"Oh sure," came the voice of Eddie Gazzara as he strolled up to our congregation. "Don't lie to us. This is your way of announcing that you're back. No stopping by for a howdy-do chat for you. You jump straight into the fire."

"It wasn't deliberate," I stated, looking each of them directly in the eye so they would know I was telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Well, maybe not, considering when I'm lying through my teeth I still look them straight in the eye. "I came out of the supermarket and it blew up."

"Babe," I heard behind me at the same time I felt the tingle on the back of my neck.

"It's how it happened," I defended, twisting around to see him. "I swear! Ask your sons."

He placed a hand at the back of my neck and I stopped contorting my body; the physical connection more than made up for the lack of visual. I could tell so much from his touch that I often had difficulty picking up on in his face. The subtle differences in his grip, body temperature, and steadiness told me anything from the emotion he was feeling to whether he was well or not.

"If you have any more questions," Carlos told the boys in blue. "Woody should be able to answer them." And before I had time to react he was wheeling me away. I reached for the breaks, but he simply leaned forward and brushed my hand away gently, pressing them both into my lap without even pausing. "I'm not taking your independence away," he said, sounding slightly strained. "I'm just in a hurry to get you away from all the eyes so I can be sure you're okay."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he couldn't take my word for it just this once. He wouldn't be satisfied until he'd made sure I had absolutely no bruises, no cuts, not abrasions. Of course since we were in public he would have to make do with making sure that I had no tenderness in the places he couldn't see. When we reached the SUV, Mat and Edi were knelt on the back seat playing knuckles with Bobby. I'd tried to get the guys to stop playing pseudo violent games with them, but they pointed out that the boys weren't exactly equipped with the language knowledge to play I Spy yet, so it was physical or screaming bored children. It wasn't until Carlos had stopped and allowed me to put the brakes on that I realised one more problem. They'd brought an SUV. There was no way I could haul myself up there.

"Carlos," I whined.

"Babe," he responded, giving me that _try-to-understand_ look in his eyes. "It was a split second decision. Bobby already had the SUV started up." I'd been actively asserting my independence for three days now and I could see Carlos struggling with not being able to just step in and do what I needed to have done and without risking my wrath. He got that I needed to do things for myself, maybe it was time to ease up a little. Rather than complain about his choice of transport, I just sighed and held my arms up so he could lift me into the back seat with the boys. As he wrapped his arms around me he pressed his lips against my ear and whispered, "Thanks, Babe."

Carlos got me settled, handed me my purse and checked me over while Bobby strapped the boys in and stowed my chair. We were half way home, stopped at a red light when Bobby reached into his cargo pocket and handed me a piece of paper. "You left this in your chair," he said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted it or not."

Confused as to what it could possibly be, I slowly unfolded it and saw the hand drawn grid and sweeping script. "Shit," I muttered.

"Dad!" Mat called forward to his father.

"Mommy said a swear word!" Edi finished for him.

I sighed. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Little ears heard all.

* * *

_Please continue to show your support with reviews. They make me want to continue writing all the more._


	4. Chapter 3

_So the reason this chapter took three days to arrive is not because I simply couldn't be bothered writing. No, you see, in order for my brain to allow me to write the next chapter (seen below) I had to first bow down to it's will. And it's will wanted me to create Brodie's crossword. So I did. And Shreek decided that my clues were way to obvious, so we are currently in the process of changing the regular clues to cryptic clues, because they're way more fun! We have two left, but have hit a dead end. Never fear though, we'll get there eventually, and when we do, I shall post it on my deviantART page and put a link to it in my profile so you can play along! YAY!_

**Chapter 3**

I knew it was a useless exercise when I started it, but I had to try. Once the groceries were away, the boys were playing quietly in their room and Carlos was busy with preparations for dinner, I wheeled myself into the home office and fired up my laptop to see if I could locate Brodie. The search programs we had at home were fairly limited, really only useful for basic and local searches, but it was enough to let me feel like I was doing something. Once I had entered all the information I had on him, which in itself was incredibly limited, I turned my attention back to the crossword he'd asked me to have a look at. There was absolutely no way I could help him with these clues; it didn't appear to be a regular crossword. Only the first clue was solved: "Trent arrived on time in the city." Apparently, that meant Trenton.

As I continued to stare at it, I started to wonder if solving that clue was the reason he had come to America. If so, what was so important about this crossword? Were the clues actually clues to finding something? Someone? I glanced down the list of clues, but nothing seemed to jump out at me. The clues didn't make any sense. I mean, seriously, _"My dear little darling was mistaken for a pig"_? Something tells me Brodie's father wasn't exactly in his right mind when he came up with these things.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Carlos's voice startled me out of my confusion as he entered the office.

I folded up the crossword and used it to gesture to the screen. "I'm trying to find the guy whose car blew up with mine this afternoon. He asked for help with a crossword and I didn't realise I still had it until we were almost home."

He took a seat in the office chair I'd pushed away from the desk and rolled it over to sit beside me. "It's just a crossword," he pointed out. "I'm sure he'll be okay without it." Gently moving my hands out of the way, he moved the laptop so he could see the search results, which, just so you know, were pretty dismal. There's only so much you can do with a first name a presumed nationality, a basic physical description, and the deceased status of the father. "This list is almost infinite," Carlos observed, scrolling down the page. "Did you really hope to find him in a basic search?"

Suddenly feeling inadequate, I shrugged my shoulders and leaned back. "I had to try," I told him. "The crossword is important to him. His dad made it for him." I paused, waiting for a reaction I was pretty sure wasn't going to happen – which it didn't – before adding, "His dad is dead."

Carlos nodded like he understood and pulled me out of my chair and into his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck to anchor myself and laid my head on his shoulder, waiting for him to tell me it would be alright. "I'll get Zero to hack into the police database to find a full name and contact details," he promised, which was as good as telling me everything would be fine when you understand the way his mind works. He can't just give me random affirmations that mean absolutely nothing. He has to do something about what's upsetting or annoying me. So he stated what he would do about it. The system works.

"Can you help him with the crossword?" he asked after a moment, and I knew that he was teasing me. He knew how bad I was at word puzzles. My well worded response to that was to punch him in the shoulder, which of course made my hand hurt. "Let me take a look."

"Mom!" Edi's voice rang out through the house interrupting the moment.

"Mommy!" came Mat's immediate counter call.

Great, here we go.

The twins came skittering into the room, one after the other, pointing fingers and making accusations. As usual, they were speaking over top of each other, so neither their father, nor I could understand what they were saying. I caught the words grenade, ninja star and sword and immediately knew the gist of the argument: They'd been playing and someone got hurt. Judging by the distressed look on Edi's face, he was the one with the boo-boo. While the boys continued simultaneously pleading their cases, Carlos returned me to my chair and raised his hand, palm facing the boys. The silence was instantaneous.

Slowly and deliberately, my husband looked between the boys' faces, before settling on Mat. "What did you do?" he asked at the same moment Mat said, "I didn't do anything!" A barely perceptible head shake was all that Carlos gave him, turning to his brother. "Eduardo, tell me what happened."

"He pushed me off the bed and I hit my head on the dresser!" Edi cried, getting worked up again. I laid a hand on the top of his head, gently stroking to see if he had a bump while Carlos returned his attention to Mat.

He leaned down, bracing his elbows on his knees, so that their faces were level. "Matias," he stated firmly. "Did you push your brother?"

"He stole my grenade!" he defended, which would not sit well. We had two rules in this family. Number 1: Stay in sight when we're out. Number 2: Answer the question you're asked. There were a bunch of others, but they weren't pulled out for reminders nearly as much as these two. The amount of times we'd been at the park and I'd had a panic attack because I'd lost sight of the boys when I looked away for two seconds had to be in the hundreds. More recently, we – by which I mean, mainly Carlos, given my absence – had been teaching them that if they were asked a yes or no question they answered with yes or no. Not okay. Not I guess. Not I suppose. Not an irrelevant statement. Yes. Or. No.

Carlos gave him a look. That was all it took. "Yes," Mat sighed. _Can you tell they'd been reminded of that rule a heck of a lot?_

"Blue thinking mat," my husband stated and Matias left the room, headed for one of two thinking mats we had positioned at opposite ends of the house. The green one was in the kitchen, while the blue was in the laundry. We tried to choose locations with the least amount of stimulation to encourage less frequent visits, because at the end of the day, we really didn't like punishing them. It was for their own good and our sanity.

Once Mat was out of the room, Carlo's attention was once again on Edi. "Were you playing fair?" he asked.

Edi looked down at his sock covered feet. "No," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Carlos, brushed his hair out of the way, examining the apparent place of dresser impact carefully. "Grab an ice pack and go to the green thinking mat." Edi looked like he was going to protest. "You did the wrong thing, Eduardo. Just because you're injured doesn't mean you're free to go." There was no arguing with Dad. That was an unspoken rule, we didn't have to remind them of that rule anymore. After suffering the consequences a few times they'd learned to bite their tongues pretty quickly.

*o*

It was close to ten o'clock when Carlos and I arrived at Haywood after dropping the twins at school the next day – we'd been held up talking to some of the other parents... and by 'we' I mean 'me'. We rode the lift together to the fifth floor where he kissed me and headed for his office, leaving me to be confronted by the most secretive of Merry Men in existence. Zero stood before me, his short, white-blonde hair standing on end as usual. Not a word left his lips as he handed me a post-it note, bowed his head briefly in either respect or greeting, and promptly walked away.

"Good talk!" I called after him, rolling my eyes. Hal chuckled from a nearby desk as I made my way to my cubicle. "He has a voice box, right? He can speak?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded.

"Well then, is it me?" I questioned, pausing by his desk.

"No," Hal assured me. "He's just a little ferrety."

I nodded. The man certainly looked ferrety. White-blond hair. Skinny when compared to the buffness of the rest of the guys. Twitchy nose. Okay, so the nose thing may not be true. Just take my word for it. If you saw him, your first thought would be ferret. "Pass me your desk phone," I requested and it was in my hand almost before I'd finished speaking. Sometimes I love efficiency, just not when it's forced upon me. I thanked him and started dialling the number on my post-it note. Dial tone. No ringing. That was odd, the Merry Men never make mistakes. They wouldn't have given me a number without double and triple checking it. I put the phone down, frowning between it and the post-it note.

"Something wrong?" Hal asked, moving the phone back to its usual space.

I looked up and gave him a smile. "No, everything's fine."

"Great!" came Bobby's overly chipper voice from behind me. "I have a surprise for you."

My stomach dropped all the way to my feet at that statement. I'd been expecting Bobby to nab me since I returned. He'd assured the carers and doctors at the facility that he would personally continue with my formal physio. I'd just like to mention that physio is the most frustrating thing in the world mainly because it does nothing for me. At least it hasn't done anything for me yet. I mean, if it was doing something for me, helping in any way, I'd probably be a little closer to walking, right? I turned to face his grinning, Cheshire cat face with a countering glare of my own. "Let me guess," I said, "The gym?"

His grin grew wider. "We can do it in the open gym if you like, or we can go to my office," he informed me. "But I've set it up in the gym. I think it'd do you good to have the guys around you. Don't worry though, no one will be paying attention to you." He was really doing a hard sell on this, so I couldn't very well dash his hope and efforts.

"Lead the way," I sighed, gesturing to the elevators not more than ten feet away.

"I thought we'd take the stairs," he teased. "You know, get a head start on things."

"Not until I can walk on flat ground," I countered seriously.

He narrowed his eyes to match my seriousness, which would have worked if he weren't still smiling. "The moment you can take three steps on flat ground I'll have you up and down those stairs," he promised. Without waiting for my reaction he made his way to the open elevator, calling over his shoulder, "I'm not holding the door for you, so you better hurry up or you'll _have _to take the stairs."

When we got down to the gym, there was a folding card table set up in the middle of a cleared area. Bobby positioned me on one side and took a seat on the adjacent side. He set his right elbow on the table between us wriggling the fingers of his hand in invitation.

"What is this?" I asked. "I thought you brought me down here for physio."

He gave me a sly grin. "I did," he agreed. "We'll get to it. Ranger tells me you've been working on your upper body strength. I wanna test it out."

I rolled my eyes. Of course I'd been working on my upper body strength, how else was I supposed to heft myself around? "You brought me down here for an arm wrestle?"

With a quick look around the room he replied, "No, I brought you down here for potentially four arm wrestles and then some physio." And so I engaged in an arm wrestle with Bobby. I didn't win, but I held my own for a few minutes before giving in. Apparently he used that as a diagnostic tool, because the moment my hand hit the table top he informed me that I needed to work on my endurance if I wanted to walk again.

And so for the next half an hour, he made me stand. He wheeled me up to the special frame, told me to pull myself up, took the chair away and told me if I dropped to the ground we'd start again until I could stay upright for five minutes. It seemed simple enough, but it took me four tries to reach the full five minutes. And he wasn't interested in lending a hand when I fell down. I had to drag myself back up on the frame and give him the nod that I was ready to go again. It was hell on my entire body, and I left that gym aching all over, drenched in sweat, but with a certain sense of accomplishment. The physio therapists at the facility hadn't pushed me that hard in the entire time I'd been there, they were all about going at a steady pace. I swear to God, he was viewing the task of getting me walking again as a personal challenge. And/or he'd been ordered by the boss man himself. He was going to be the death of me if I didn't walk soon.

After the session - which ended in whoops and cheers from the guys working out, go figure, I have my own cheer squad – I went up to seven to freshen up before making my way to my cubicle to finally get down to business. As usual, Rodriguez had piled up my in tray in my absence, so I started on a couple of his searches before picking up the post-it note from Zero. I tried the number again glad to hear that it was actually ringing this time, but there was no answer. I checked that the searches were still running smoothly and tried again. Finally, just as I was about to give up, he answered.

"Aye?" he greeted. The sudden voice in my ear made me freeze, I'd been so prepared to fail again that I hadn't thought of how to say what I needed to say. "Hello?" he tried again.

"Hi," I said, cringing at the awkwardness of the moment. "I'm calling for Brodie McKenna?"

"This is he," he informed me, and it amazed me anew at how the most mundane phrases sounded almost exotic in a foreign accent. I got the same feeling whenever I had a conversation with Hector. "Who's speaking, please?"

"My name is Stephanie. We met at the car explosion yesterday? You asked for help with your father's crossword?" Why was I stating these facts as questions?

"Stephanie," he acknowledged. "How are ye?"

Oh pleasantries. There's something I don't get a lot of in my everyday phone calls. Of course, most of the phone calls I make are within the company and despite the fact that I had trained the guys to say goodbye before hanging up, we weren't quite up to paint-your-nails-and-talk-about-the-weather gabbing conversations. "I'm fine, thank you," I replied dutifully, stretching my left arm out. "And you?"

"I'm well," he conceded. "But I'll be even better if you tell me you haven't lost the puzzle."

"It's in my handbag," I informed him, and heard him let out a long breath that he'd obviously been holding. "I'm tied to my desk for most of the day, but if you're free around half past three this afternoon we could meet and I'll return it to you. I understand how important something like this would be." We set up to meet at the cafe just down the street from the boys' school at three-thirty. That allowed me time to get most of Rodriguez's searches done, pick up the boys and potentially be drawn into a quick post school conversation with the other mothers before afternoon tea with Brodie and my little men.

* * *

_And so the wheels are in motion. Don't forget to review, pretty please? Oh, and I apologise for any medical/physio inaccuracies, most what happens come straight from my head and is rarely fact checked._


	5. Chapter 4

_I'm super duper excited about this chapter, but I can't tell you why. You'll have to make your own conclusions._

**Chapter 4**

"Who's driving me?" I called out as I rolled through the command centre on my way to the elevator. Realistically, I could have checked the duty roster myself, but it was so much more fun to watch the guys fight over it until someone else pulled out the roster and proved it was their turn. As I pushed the button, I was surprised when Lester appeared by my side, a smug smile on his face. "What's with the face?" I asked.

"I won an extra shift by your side in poker last night," he informed me. "This was supposed to be Tank's shift."

I stared at him for a moment, not quite sure I understood what was going on. The elevator dinged open and we got in before I was able to voice the question on my mind. "You were gambling with shifts?"

His nod was brief, as was his attempt at keeping a straight face. "I also got Cal's Monday morning shift, Hank's Tuesday afternoon, and Zero's Wednesday morning for next week," he rattled off proudly.

I shook my head, amazed that these things actually happened in real life. Next thing I knew they'd be gambling with slave for a day tokens. I'd like to say I'd be in on that kind of betting, but the idea had two downfalls. A) The Merry Men already did anything I asked them to. And B) Unlike Lady Gaga, everyone can read my poker face without even trying, so I'd be the one enslaved to them anyway.

Lester chuckled, pulling me out of my thoughts. "That's nothing, Beautiful. You should hear the type of bets that are tossed around in Anti-Poker."

"Anti-Poker?" I tried to raise an eyebrow at him to convey my intrigue, but clearly the ability hadn't suddenly sprung up overnight like I kept hoping it would, because he laughed again.

"The aim is to lose," he explained. "We place bets that ours is the losing hands – things like 'If my hand wins I will clean the gyms showers' – and the person whose hand wins has to do all the horrible tasks that everyone has proposed."

Men are bizarre, but I was still curious as to how it worked. "I don't get it..." I said slowly. "Why would you put such disgusting bets on the table?"

"Because the object of anti-poker is to lose," he repeated. "At the end of the night, the person with the least number of task slips is the winner."

Trying to understand, I questioned, "Do you all start off with a certain number of horrible tasks?"

"Course not," he said. "We start with a notepad and pen and each hand you make up another horrible task or chore, unless you have slips that you've 'won' in previous hands."

"Right," I nodded as we exited the elevator. "And you fold..." I purposely left the sentence unfinished in the hopes that he would insert a clarification.

"If you have a hand that you think will win regular poker," he formed me, opening the passenger side door of my new BMW for me to drag myself in.

Twenty minutes later, Lester was making sure the boys were properly strapped in the back seat while I checked the time – three fifteen. That was probably the quickest pick up I'd had all year. Usually I got stuck talking to the teacher about something the boys had done, or engaged in conversation as the other mothers complained about their kids' fathers. I was acutely aware that when Carlos or the guys executed a school run they were in and out in less than five minutes. Men.

"Where to?" Lester asked, slipping easily into the driver's seat after ensuring my wheelchair was stowed safely away.

"I'm meeting someone at the cafe down the road," I informed him. "We've got some time to spare though, so don't try to rush out of the car park."

"Not a problem, Beautiful," he assured me. "Do you want me to mind the kids so you can have some adult time?"

I shook my head no as he pulled out of the parking lot. "No. I think I'd like for you to stay with us," I admitted. "Just in case."

Of course, admitting that I wanted my body guard put him on alert straight away. He was scanning cars and pedestrians carefully as if expecting a cartoon contraption a la Wile E. Coyote to crop up at any second. "What kind of person are you meeting?" he questioned. No humour. No teasing. Just business.

"The guy whose car blew up with mine yesterday," I admitted on a sigh. I really needed to develop a way of keeping the guys around when I wanted or needed them without alerting them to the fact. I explained about Brodie and his father's crossword, hoping to put Lester's mind at ease, but it just seemed to make him more suspicious. By the time we were seated at the cafe waiting for him to arrive, Lester was on the phone to the office asking for the quickest background check in the world on the guy, only to be transferred to my husband who apparently already had a complete search file in his hands. From the half of the conversation I caught, the decision was to proceed with caution despite the fact that all checks were clear.

Just as he hung up, Brodie walked through the doors. I waved to him and he made his way through the busy tables to our fairly secluded corner.

"Good to see you again," I greeted, shaking the hand he extended. "This is Lester Santos."

"Another designated driver?" Brodie asked good naturedly, offering his hand to Lester.

Lester gripped his hand firmly with a lack of expression on his face. "Something like that," he responded. Something told me he was going to make this meeting rather awkward. More awkward that it had to be. It was just like the Merry Men to be over protective of me and the boys. For all we knew, this was an innocent foreigner visiting the country on his father's last wish.

"Lester, why don't you get the boys some juice and cookies," I suggested, laying a hand on his forearm. I hoped he would take the hint, but you never know with the guys. "And I'd love coffee." Before he had time to argue with me, I turned to Mat and Edi, changing my demeanour entirely as I asked them energetically, "Would you like some cookies?" Of course, I knew the answer before I asked. They were, after all, my sons.

"Yeah!" the cried together, jiggling in their seats.

"Go with Uncle Lester to pick them out, then. You can have one big one or two small ones each."

Despite the fact that I'd suggested they go with Lester, it appeared more of a drag-Uncle-Lester-over-to-the-counter. Matias grabbed his left arm while Eduardo grabbed the right and they were practically running in place in an attempt to get him moving. Finally, Lester allowed them to lead him to the display, leaving me alone with Brodie for however brief a moment it would take Lester to order.

"Sorry about that," I mentioned, slouching back in my chair. "He works for my husband's security company. Sometimes they can be a little over protective."

His smile was warm as he brushed his wavy brown hair out of his eyes, and scratched his stubble. "Don't worry about it," he assured me. "A little over protectiveness is a good thing in this day and age." I nodded my agreement – I couldn't very well deny that I needed protecting, especially given my track record – and reached into my bag to search for the crossword. "So your husband is in security?" he asked conversationally.

"More or less," I said, digging through the excess junk that seemed to accumulate in my purse over time. "He does some private and corporate security as well as fugitive apprehension in conjunction with Vincent Plum Bail Bonds," I explained.

Now it was his turn to nod, fiddling with a sugar sachet. "And you?" he asked. "What do you do?"

I avoided looking at him, continuing to rummage through my bag even though I'd already found the piece of paper I was after. The problem with this kind of question was, I wasn't sure if I should answer it. It seemed fine to talk about Carlos and what he did for a living; he could clearly handle himself if something came up. I, on the other hand, was vulnerable as a lamb. I couldn't even run away from an attacker in my current condition. After a long pause, I figured there was no harm in telling him. If he really wanted to know he could find out through other avenues anyway, so I may as well cut out the middle man.

"Currently, I run searches and handle part of customer relations at the security company," I confessed. "Pre-wheels I was in on the action side of things a bit more. Helping with the odd take down, and stake out where it was needed." He seemed to be listening intently, staring directly into my eyes. To be honest it was a bit unnerving. Most people don't maintain constant eye contact during a conversation. I had to scramble to maintain my train of thought. "Before the kids and marriage I was working mainly for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds."

"So that's how you met?"

I simply nodded, pulling my hands out of my purse, but leaving the crossword in there. Something told me that now was not the time to pull it out. "What about you?" I asked. "What do you do... back in Scotland?"

"Actually, my job doesn't necessarily tie me to one place. I can pretty much do my job anywhere in the world." He paused, briefly looking over his shoulder in the direction of the counter. And I followed his gaze to where Lester stood with Mat and Edi, who were literally bouncing up and down in excitement as they waited in line. Lester's eyes met mine across the room and I could see the silent question in them, asking if I was alright. I gave the slightest of nods, more blink than head movement, and he looked back to the boys engaging them in conversation of some kind. "It appears you're used to tough men, so don't laugh when I tell you, okay?" Instead of say anything I just drew a cross over the left side of my chest. "I'm translator," he said. "I translate instruction manuals."

"Instruction manuals?" He nodded and I had to give a short little smirk. "So how does it feel to have your work ignored by millions of men all around the world?" At that moment Mat ran up to the table with a handful of napkins, followed by his brother with a handful of straws. They climbed into their seats and placed their items in the middle of the table, sitting quietly as Lester brought a plate of cookies over. "What did you get?" I asked the boys, and in typical fashion they both started talking at once. "Wait, wait, wait!" I said, holding up my hand. "Eduardo, you first. What cookies did you choose."

The boys were content to sit quietly for the duration if their cookies, during which time Lester and I made small talk with Brodie – some of us were talking smaller than others. We found out that it had taken three days of staring at the clues on the page before he finally figured out one-across, at which point he knew that while it seemed like a crazy gesture on his father's part, it was a clue to something he was supposed to figure out or discover.

"How could a foreigner such as yourself come to the conclusion that the first solution was Trenton?" Lester asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion. "It's a little obscure, don't you think?"

Brodie met his eyes, not willing to be intimidated by my muscled protector. "Normally, I'd agree with you," he said. "But my Da spent two years living in Trenton when he was young." He paused, finally breaking eye contact to gaze out the window. "In fact, I was born here."

At that moment juice spilled across the table, catching all our attention. I looked over to the boys to find Mat with his hand still outstretched as if to grab hold of his drink which was now on its side flowing freely in all directions.

"Juanito Matias Manoso," I sighed, "What did you do?"

"Sorry, Mommy!" he exclaimed. "It was an accident!"

I nodded that I understood and sent him to grab more napkins before it went too far.

* * *

_Please continue to send in your lovely reviews. They mean a lot to me._


	6. Chapter 5

_I had originally planned on updating "That Froghurt Guy" next, but since my Beta is out of state (and her mind, but that's a normal thing for her) and away from her keyboard, I decided I may as well work on "You're Pretty Messed Up Too" instead. And clearly, I managed to get somewhere with it... since you're reading here and all..._

**Chapter 5**

Once the mess was cleared up, thanks to the helpful waitress that happened to be hanging around the table, we settled down and Lester looked like he was about to start his interrogation when the boys started acting up. I knew I couldn't expect them to sit still for much longer without giving them something to do, so I pulled my anti-boredom kit from my handbag and passed it across the table. This was an idea I'd gotten from Mary-Lou. It was an emptied out mint tin with a bunch of little activities in it. There was a small mat and special set of dice used for playing finger twister, a couple of small notepads and pencils, and some magnetic face features for making funny faces on the lid of the tin. The Merry Men had taken to keeping similar kits in their desk drawers for in case they were left in charge of the twins at a moment's notice. Some held little pop rockets, others had teeny-tiny bows and arrows made from paddle pops and q-tips, and I knew for a fact that Hank had a miniature pool table in a tin. They say they only keep them for the kids, but considering the things in them, I'd say they use them to quench their own boredom as well. So once the boys were occupied, I turned my attention to Brodie.

"You were born in Trenton?" I asked, surprised that I'd managed to maintain the thread of conversation throughout the disruption. The look Lester sent me said he hadn't expected it either.

Brodie nodded slightly, watching Eduardo roll the Twister dice. "My Da was here on a student exchange program," he explained. "Met a lass. Fell in lust with her. Nine months later, there I was. She died from complications after the birth. I was here a month before Da took me home to Scotland."

"What about the girl's parents" Lester asked pointedly. "What did they have to say about it?"

He shook his head, and avoided looking at either of us in favour of staring at the table top. "They thought it was best if he take me away. They didn't want to be reminded of the mistakes their daughter had made."

"That's terrible!" I voiced my opinion. "You'd think they'd want to keep you close as the last part of their child. What grandparent doesn't want to know their grandchild?"

Shaking his head, Brodie finally lifted his head and gave me a small smile. "Just mine apparently," he said. "It doesna bother me anymore. I've made a good life for myself. Grandparents are just a vague concept that other people experience." We spoke a short while longer about his childhood until he glanced at his watch and shook his head regretfully. "Sorry," he apologised, "I need to leave. Deadline to meet."

"Of course," I assured him as he stood. I dug a business card out of my purse and handed to him. "If you need any help or just want to talk, don't hesitate to call."

"That's very kind of ye," he informed me, taking my hand in both of his. "And ye take care of yerself."

He nodded curtly to Lester, who returned the gesture but stayed silent as he had been for quite some time now. Once Brodie had left he turned to the boys and helped them pack their game back into the tin. He didn't say a word. I was about to ask if everything was alright when my phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered, knowing it was Carlos purely from the ringtone.

"Tell me your spidey senses are tingling," he prompted and I could hear the slight smile in his voice.

Confused as to where he was going with this, I decided to play along. "My spidey senses are tingling?" I said, but it came out more of a question.

"Babe," he stated, sounding exasperated. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings."

At his words, a shiver ran up my spine and I knew he was here. Without turning around I asked, "How much of that did you see and hear?"

"Enough to know you didn't give him the crossword," he informed me. "And knowing you, there's a reason you kept it."

Finally, I turned my chair around, scanning the cafe patrons in search of my husband. "Where are you?" I asked into the phone when I failed to spot him. I'd double checked all the faces in the vicinity and none of them were the man I loved.

"Outside," he said. "I couldn't risk the boys giving my presence away."

I spotted him sitting at a table outside the plate glass window of the cafe. It was pretty far away, but the set up of the tables meant that he would have been able to see almost all of what went on at my meeting. How he heard anything was beyond me. I gave him a mock glare and shook my head when he sent me a crooked little smile. "Get in here mister," I commanded.

Five minutes later, with keys exchanged and Lester on his way back to Rangeman for the evening in the SUV, Carlos reminded me that we were expected at my parent's house for dinner. I suppressed a sigh, knowing that Mom was going to make a fuss about me not walking yet, just like every time she visited in the centre. Mom was under the impression that I wasn't trying hard enough. Grandma Mazur, on the other hand, informed me that it was a pity I was already married because I'd probably get a lot more men with my new wheels. I shudder to think of any antics she might get up to if she got possession of my chair.

When we pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later – Mom loved it when we arrived early so she could have extra time with the boys – Mom and Grandma were waiting at the storm door as per usual. Carlos released the child lock and the boys were out of the car in a flash, making quick work of the path that lead to the porch and in mere moments they were being smothered in grandparental kisses and ushered inside to say hello to their grandpa.

Carlos retrieved my chair from the trunk and set it up for me and positioning it just right for me to get into it, but as I contemplated the house, I realised it would be more trouble than it was worth to try and navigate the chair in my parents' home. Their hall was not as wide as our own, and so much life had been crammed into the rooms over the years that it would be like an obstacle course just to get to the dining table. Not to mention the stairs. Stairs to the porch. Stairs to the second floor where the bathroom was. The chair would just be in the way.

I must have taken a while to make my decision, because the next thing I knew Carlos was crouched down next to my open door, peering at me with a slight furrow in his brow. "Babe?" he questioned. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, I laid my hand on his cheek. "Would you mind if we left chair out here?" I asked softly, gazing into the melted chocolate pools of his eyes. "You'd have to carry me up the steps anyway, and it seems silly to make you carry me and then drag the chair in as well."

"It would be my honour," he assured me, wrapping one arm behind my back and hooking the other under my rear. His lips descended to meet mine and he was about to lift me out of the car when I remembered the chair. I pressed my palms against his shoulders and it took everything I had in me to break the kiss.

"Carlos," I breathed, earning myself a soft '_mmm'_ in response. The vibration of his chest ran through me, causing me to chuckle slightly. "Shouldn't you put the chair away first?"

I'm sure if he had been a mere man he'd have rolled his eyes at my suggestion, but being that he was Ricardo 'Ranger' Carlos 'Batman Manoso he gave a slight nod and left my side to do my bidding before quickly returning and sweeping me up into his arms. I called hello to Mom and Grandma over Carlos's shoulder as he carried me past them in the hall, heading for the living room where we could hear Mat and Edi chatting enthusiastically with Dad. The moment we entered, Dad got up from his easy chair and indicated that Carlos should set me down there. I shook my head and informed him that I'd be fine on the couch, but Dad insisted. He then settled in the middle of the couch allowing his favourite – and only – grandsons to climb up next to him on either side. Carlos settled on the arm of my chair, one hand gently massaging the back of my neck, and I placed my hand on his thigh.

"Mommy, where's your wheelchair?" Eduardo enquired, looking around.

"It's in the car," Carlos informed him. "Daddy's going to be her wheelchair tonight."

Of course, Grandma Mazur chose that moment to enter the room and I silently groaned as she sent a wicked grin in our direction. "I bet he's a hell of a wheel chair," she commented, setting two glasses of water on the end table next to the armchair, one for me and one for Carlos. "I know I'd like a ride."

My mother groaned out loud as she slid herself into the small space left on the couch next to Matias, stroking his wild curls almost absently. "Mother, please keep your thoughts to yourself just for once," she all but begged. "Stephanie and Carlos are happily married with two beautiful children, it's time you stopped these suggestive comments."

"What about their band of hunky young men?" Grandma asked, clicking her dentures with glee.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help a smile. "You can make all the comments about them you want, just not in front of the boys, okay?" I compromised with a pointed look.

She plonked herself down in the remaining armchair with all the grace of a baby elephant falling over. "You take all my fun," she complained, good naturedly. Then, with another devilish grin, she added, "You're just like you mother, you know?"

That had both me and Mom on the defensive. No way would I ever admit to being anything like my stick in the mud mother, and I'm sure upright, proper Mom loathed being likened to her out of control, disobedient, screw up daughter. I'm not saying I'm a screw up, I'm saying I didn't turn out the way she wanted me to. First of all, I lived in sin for quite a few years before settling down and finding myself a (second) husband. Then there's the fact that I'd chosen Carlos instead of the born and raised 'Burg boy she'd chosen (aka Joseph Morelli). And then there was the fact that I apparently had a problem with keeping my cars in one piece. She was terrified that one of these days the car was going to blow up with me and/or the boys inside it. She'd practically informed me that if such a thing ever happened she would revive me just so that she could kill me herself. Most of that threat was implied, of course.

"How dare you make such a comparison!" my mother shouted. "Any similarities between us stop at appearances. Never in my wildest dreams would I even consider doing half the things she's done!"

I nodded my head, for once agreeing whole heartedly with Mom's words. "I'm nothing like Mom," I added. "She's a great cook. She's organised. She's the perfect 'Burg woman. Next to Mom I'm pretty much a disaster zone."

Grandma Mazur sent meaningful glances in both our directions before stating, "The two of you have more in common than you'd think."

"Mother," Mom warned her, obviously catching more meaning than I had in her statement.

Grandma clicked her dentures some more, before rising from her chair and making her way to the kitchen. "I better check on the pot roast," she announced when she was halfway out the door.

Needless to say, things were tenser than usual between my mother and grandmother for the rest of the evening, not that I could figure out why. From my point of view, Grandma Mazur had simply made some comments about the fact that we were related and obviously shared some common traits, but Mom had taken things a little too personally. Thankfully, as we finished up dessert, the boys began to yawn and rub their eyes, giving me a legitimate excuse to get out of the line of fire before another legendary argument between my mother and grandmother erupted. I remember when I was little Mom and Grandma used to argue in the kitchen. Val and I had learned pretty quick that when Grandma raised her voice we stayed out of the way. If we needed a drink we either had to wait or get it from the bathroom sink or the hose in the back yard. And a snack? Yeah right.

Grandma was getting that look in her eyes like she used to get before she dragged Mom into the kitchen for their 'chats', so I spoke up, saying that we should probably get the twins home to bed because they had school the next day. Carlos nodded in agreement, cautiously eyeing the older women, no doubt having sensed the vibe in the room if nothing else. He thanked Mom and Grandma for dinner, declined the offer of leftovers – because it would just keep us trapped for that much longer – and lifted me into his arms once more. As he carried me out to the car, Dad herded the boys into the back seat and strapped them in. Mom and Grandma came out and kissed them both goodnight. It was weird watching them standing next to each other knowing that there was a fiery anger at the other bubbling beneath each surface. I half expected them to break into a fist fight at any moment.

A couple of hours later with the boys tucked into bed and the house locked up tight, Carlos found me in the bedroom pulling on one of his t-shirts to sleep in. He sat on the side of the bed and started pulling off his boots without a word. Once he was down to his boxers, he reached out and dragged my chair closer to him. "How was your session with Bobby today?" he asked, dragging me into his lap and delving his face into my hair.

"It was gruelling," I informed him, reaching around the back of his head and pulling out the leather tie that held his hair back so that it fell loosely around his face. "He made me pull myself up and stay upright in his stupid standing frame thing for a full five minutes."

"And did you?" he asked, planting soft kisses on my neck just where it met shoulder.

"Eventually," I conceded. "I think the effort was more arms than legs, though."

He gently nipped at my earlobe and whispered, "Proud of you, Babe," before swiftly turning and depositing me in the middle of the bed. In the next moment he had crawled on top of me and I was completely at his mercy, giving in entirely to the sensations he provoked in me. A while later we lay intertwined, our breathing rough as he tucked my head into his chest. "Tomorrow you'll show me what you learned," he informed me. "I might be able to provide incentive for you to manage standing up for periods of time."

I knew he was being suggestive, and the image of the things he could do to me raced through my head, but all I could manage was an agreeable "mmm," as my eyes drifted closed.

* * *

_Don't forget to review. I love reading your comments and theories on the direction of the story._


	7. Chapter 6

_So guess what! All the clues have finally been finalised for Brodie's mysterious crossword and I have posted the puzzle on my deviantART page, a link to which can be found on my FanFiction profile page. Feel free to download it and play along at home! It'll be just like those televised IQ tests! _

**Chapter 6**

The next morning we were all in the kitchen getting ready for the day. The boys were at the table spilling milk all over their placemats while they ate their cheerios. Carlos was at the sink washing our dishes while at the same time making toast for the boys. And I was stood, clutching the bench. My legs were aching from the exertion, and my arms weren't much better. Carlos told me if I could stay upright while he did the dishes he'd have a special surprise for me tonight. Needless to say I was very curious as to what he had in mind and was doing my best to stay upright. It wasn't easy, though, especially when he would loop his arms around my waist every time he passed and place whisper soft kisses along the nape of my neck. Such actions caused my legs to turn to jelly under normal circumstances; now I was reduced to a white knuckle grip on the counter.

"You're doing good, Babe," Carlos informed me as he passed behind me to take the toast to the table.

In those few moments he was not by my side I felt more unstable than I had the entire time I'd been standing there. It was like my legs would give out at any moment. I watched Carlos with a growing sense of urgency to have him back within my reach, he buttered a slice of toast each for Mat and Edi and proceeded to ask them which spread they wanted. Meanwhile, I could feel perspiration beading on my upper lip. My palms were getting sweaty and slippery and I was confident that I was going to land on my ass in a second when Mat looked up, peanut butter spread across his cheeks and grinned.

"Mommy! You're standing!" he exclaimed.

His brother's head snapped up, his eyes coming alive as his piece of toast hung in the air, momentarily forgotten. "Are you better, Mom?" he asked.

Carlos smiled over at me as well and I was struck anew by how much the boys looked like him. Their skin tone was a touch lighter, their hair much curlier, and Mat's eyes were blue, but that smile was the same across all three faces. The hope and encouragement they were projecting my way caused me to screw my courage to the sticking place. I could handle a minute without Carlos in arm's reach. I would walk again, and all the purpose I needed was gathered around that table.

I sent a smile back at my boys – all three of them – and used my new found motivation to straighten just that little bit more before answering Eduardo's question. "I'm not better yet," I said. "But I'm getting there."

"Will you play tag with us soon?" Mat asked excitedly.

"Maybe, one day in a couple of months," I said.

Having finished preparing the boys' toast, Carlos standing behind me, pressed against my back, his hands on either side of my on the counter. "Maybe a little sooner than that if we can keep making sure she practices at home," he informed the boys. "It's like homework for Mommy."

The boys cheered at hearing that Mommy had homework too. They may only be five, but they understood that homework was not something they were supposed to like, so knowing that I had to do some too made it just a little more bearable.

Carlos wrapped his arms around my waist one last time, gently prising my hands off the bench before turning me in his arms. He was still slightly smiling as our eyes met and I knew that the fact that I was finally making progress had him practically dancing on the inside. I'd be almost surprised if he was able to wipe the smile off his face at work today. His gaze lingered on mine, even as he called a command to our children. Most parents give instructions, or ask their kids to do things. Not the Manoso twins. These young boys were direct commands, which they almost always followed, mostly because to disobey was to face family court martial and a court martial could lead to extra chores on weekends. "Finish your toast and go get dressed," he told them firmly. "We leave in fifteen minutes."

I laughed as the boys each shoved half a slice of toast in their mouths, looking a bit like chipmunks as they scurried from the room. The moment their footsteps had faded down the hallway, my husband's lips were on mine, almost startling me. The kiss was firm and full of all the warm encouragement I needed to feel. I was literally melting against him, my legs having gone weak all of a sudden when he pulled back to ask if I could move my legs.

With a small smile and a hazy look in my eyes, I replied, "I don't think I have that much control over them right yet." The chuckle this comment earned me tore away any strength my lower limbs had still possessed and I found myself scooped into the air and carried across the kitchen to where he'd taken my wheelchair. "I'm sorry," I told him.

His eyebrows drew together as he set me down and stood back to meet my eyes. "For what?" he asked, almost suspiciously.

At a loss for words, I simply gestured to my legs where they lay not quite on the footrests off the chair. I tried to gather my strength and move them into place, but it just wasn't working. They just stayed there, defying my orders, even when I made the conscious demands. The frustration that filled me in once again having to remind myself that I couldn't just expect myself to pick up my feet and put them down where they were supposed to go had me almost in tears. There was a burning sensation right behind my eyes and my nose was tingling like it wanted to leak as well. Blinking hard, I sniffed back the snot that threatened to drool out of my nostril, staring down at my useless appendages.

Carlos braced his hands on the arms rests of my wheelchair and leaned down so that our faces were once again mere inches apart, forcing me to look him in the eye. "There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Babe," he reminded me. "You're trying your hardest to get things going again, but it's going to take time. The only reason you're apologising is because you're so frustrated. You want to walk, I understand that, but you can't keep this state of mind up. I'm going to be here to support you no matter what, so no more sorries."

At that moment, I saw how he managed to talk the boys out of their upsets and disappointments. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about his speech – maybe his eyes, they always did the trick for me – but it soothed most of my qualms and with a deep breath, I nodded in agreement and brushed the stray lock of hair that had fallen out of his tie, behind his ear. "I should go get ready for work," I announced, and almost ended my words on a squeal as Carlos used his grip on my chair to spin me in a 180 degree turn and push me in the direction of the hall. "You cannot keep doing that," I called over my shoulder as I paused at the entrance to the kitchen, trying to get my heart rate under control.

I could hear the grin in his voice when he replied, "Just another reason for you to work hard at what you're doing."

*o*

I'd wedged myself into Manny's cubicle under the pretence that I needed some advice on how to better monitor the power usage of my iPhone, but in reality, I was hiding. From who, you ask? Why, Robert Brown, of course. Who else? I'd caught a glimpse of a company roster on my way past one of the guys' desks as I rolled through the comm. room this morning and I happened to notice that Bobby was stuck in the office for the afternoon. If he was in the building for the entire afternoon, it meant that there was a very large probability that he would come and find me at some point for a torture session. I know I need his help with the whole walking thing, but he was like... well, okay, now that I thought about it, I realised that it should come as that much of a surprise... but I'm sure the way he treats me in my sessions is a bit like how they treat newbie soldiers in the military.

Maybe I'm just being over sensitive. In fact, I'm pretty sure I am, given the way they treat the new recruits on training days; all screaming in their faces and angry eye. But I just wasn't in the mood to struggle with another task today. Already, I had spent my time staring at Brodie's crossword and typing every possible search request I could think of into Google to try and solve some of the clues. I was pretty sure the effort was starting to make me go cross eyed.

"So once you're in settings," Manny continued, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't paying a cent of attention to him as he flicked, swiped and tapped at the screen in his hands. "You need to go to-."

And that's when I heard it. Four cubicles down, Bobby's voice asked loudly, "Does anyone know where Steph went?"

Manny looked up from my iPhone, his mouth open to call a reply to Bobby, but I shook my head. "Just let me steal another moment or two," I requested. "I'm not ready to go yet." But as I spoke, I felt a presence behind me and Manny's gaze fixed over my shoulder.

"Relax, Angel," Bobby soothed. "No one's going to torture you. I'm just gonna take you downstairs and we're gonna see how long you can stand up for."

I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly, which was a useless action, because with my hands off the wheels and nowhere near the brakes, he could easily just drag me out of the cubicle and down to the gym. But he didn't. "I already stood up today," I told him.

"So I've heard," he responded, and I felt the slight tug as he laid his hands on the grips at the back of my chair.

"So am I exempt from gym today?" I asked hopefully.

"Nope," he responded easily. "Now you have two options: 1) I drag you and the chair down to the gym. 2) I throw you over my shoulder and carry you down to the gym and leave you to find your own way all the way back up here to you chair after I disable the elevators. And 3) –"

"You said I had two options," I pointed out.

"I lied," he said. "Option three is probably your easiest: You come willingly."

Lester chuckled somewhere close by. "Since when does Bombshell ever come willingly?" he asked.

"Good point," Bobby agreed, and proceeded to drag me backwards out of Manny's cubicle. "Option one or two?" he asked.

"Three!" I exclaimed. "I'm coming, okay?"

"That's what I thought," he grinned down at me after spinning me around so that I faced him.

Twenty minutes later I was lost in thought. My legs were once again aching from being used for so long. My arms were shaking. And I was sweating again. I hope this gets easier. I can't tell you exactly how long I had remained upright, but I knew that the longer I stood there the more I wanted to just walk away, which lead to frustration when I remember that my legs were being defiant right now. So I tried to distract myself. I talked with Bobby some about life and the twins and work, but he'd gotten an important phone call and had to step out a few minutes ago. I found myself floundering and with the gym completely empty for the first time in forever, I was left with my uncooperative body and my thoughts to keep me company.

I was puzzling over Brodie's crossword again. Repeating the clues in my head like it would somehow help me come up with an answer.

"What are you thinking about, Steph?" Bobby asked, startling me into almost falling over. I hadn't realised he was back in the room. "You were rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself," he explained as he closed the distance between us. "I'm just curious as to what's on your mind because sometimes these things are all about a mindset. It's like exercise. When I'm in the right frame of mind, I can do jumping jacks with a broken rib."

"Crossword clues," I said simply.

Bobby's brows furrowed at my answer. Clearly he hadn't been expecting that. "Crossword clues?"

"Yeah," I said. "Cryptic ones."

Shaking his head slowly, he asked, "Why are you thinking of cryptic crossword clues?" Adjusting my grip on the frame, I told him about Brodie, his father and the crossword. He appeared to be highly interested in it, because the moment I mentioned that I hadn't actually given it back to him, he asked to see it.

"There's a copy of it in my back pocket," I informed him. "You can just grab it, I don't mind."

He shook his head again. "Not gonna happen, Angel. Ranger catches me touching your ass and I'm dead meat. Besides, I wanna see you reach into your pocket and hand it to me while staying upright." So I did. Slowly. It was easier that I thought it would be to take one hand off the frame, but it didn't stop my balance from wavering a moment. I paused, willing myself to stay upright before grabbing the slip of paper and handing it to Bobby.

After a few minutes of examination, muttered, "Angel."

Thinking he was talking to me, I replied, "Yeah?"

"No," he said. "Fifteen across. It has to be angel."

"How do you figure?" I asked, craning my neck to try and read the clue he mentioned.

"_This angle is all messed up_," he quoted. "Since it's a cryptic clue, I'm going to take it to mean that the solution is revealed my rearranging the letters in the word angle. The obvious option being switching the e and the l. Angel."

I stared at him for a long moment, still processing his reasoning. It seemed solid enough. "Can I get down now?" I asked.

Bobby checked his watch, his eyes widening. "Yeah," he said quickly. "Sorry, Steph. I didn't realise what the time was." He positioned the wheelchair behind me and helped me ease back down into it. "You did really well today," he said. "I'm proud of the progress you've made in such a short time." There was a short pause before he asked, "Why do you think this kind of thing didn't happen at the centre?"

I shrugged. "Things just feel different since I've been home," I said, which was true, but I'm not sure it was a trigger in my progress. "Plus, you don't take no for an answer."

"Well, neither do you, Angel," he reminded me. "So if you say you're gonna walk again, you're damn well gonna walk again."

"You bet I will," I confirmed. "Now hand me a pen so I can write in fifteen across."

* * *

_Intrigued? Curious? Send me a review._


	8. Chapter 7

_Sorry it's taken so long to get the latest chapter out. I started reading a book (which is a pretty big deal for me at the moment, since I haven't read a book in a couple of months. I usually read a new book every two to three weeks but lately I'd been so focused on writing that reading wasn't an interest.) and forgot how to juggle reading and writing. But it's okay. It's here now._

**Chapter 7**

Carlos watched on his computer monitor as his wife struggled to maintain an upright position in the standing frame Bobby was making her use. She was all alone in the gym, even Bobby having stepped out for a moment. Sweat poured off her furrowed brow as she stared at the empty room in front of her and she appeared to be talking to herself. _One of her pep-talks?_ He turned the sound up on this computer, but all the surveillance system was picking up was huffing and a slight, almost wordless murmur.

With a small frown on his face, he returned his attention to the file spread before him. Blue eyes stared blankly out from the brown haired profile picture. Carlos hadn't been able to put the photo aside as something in it kept calling to him. The eyes, probably, he decided, since they bore a striking resemblance to Stephanie's. There was something about the man that made the hairs on the back of Carlos's neck stand on end, but he couldn't classify the feeling as either innately good or innately bad. It was just suspicion.

He'd been checking the information Brodie had divulged at the cafe the previous day and discovered that as far as this initial background search was concerned, it was all true. There were no records of Brodie's birth, no indication that he existed until he was three months old, but which time he had apparently already been taken to Scotland. At no point in any of the records was there mention of his mother. Just a note saying that the woman was deceased and the Grandparents requested she not be acknowledged in relation to the child in anyway. Carlos stared hard at the note, observing how strange such an occurrence was. Grandparents were usually thrilled to know their grandkids, he'd witnessed this first hand. So why would these people cut all ties with a baby boy who was their own flesh and blood. Only one thought came to mind. Teen pregnancy.

A brief, efficient knock sounded at his office door and he called for the person to enter. Lester Santos wasted no time in entering and flopping into one of the two visitor's chairs positioned across the desk from where he sat. Carlos waited none too patiently for the man to explain his presence, when no such explanation was forth coming he simply raised an eyebrow in his direction, simultaneously switching the sound off on his monitor.

"There's something hinky about this Brodie guy," Lester said, waving a file folder half-heartedly in the air.

"Hinky?" Carlos questioned his choice of words. It sounded more like something Steph would sprout off than the kind of language his men used when discussing a case.

"I don't know if it's the eyes, the accent, or the birth record thing, but there is something off up in here.

"Agreed," Carlos granted. "Put a tail on him and do some more digging."

At this order, Lester sat up, leaning forward in the chair with his elbow on his knees. "You think Steph is in danger from this guy?" he asked his boss. A threat against Steph was as serious as they came in this company, because if Steph was in danger, the boys were in danger and no one could stand to see any of them hurt. There was only so much you could do to ensure Steph's safety and while they had the added advantage of the boys not being able to go off on their own, it was even harder to keep them safe from harm. People look poorly upon five year olds having body guards follow them to school.

"I can't say for sure at the moment," Carlos mentioned. "But I'm not taking any chances." At that moment his desk phone rang and Lester politely excused himself, pulling the door shut behind him. "Rangeman," he announced by way of greeting.

"Oh," said the voice on the other end. "I was after Stephanie, do I have the wrong number?"

Carlos suppressed a small smile, acknowledging that the voice he heard on the other end of the line was the same he had listened to the previous afternoon through his ear piece at the cafe and commending his wife once more for not listing her personal line on her business cards. They had discussed the issues of doing such a thing, given her stalker history and decided that it was best if she got a few different sets of business cards, each with a different Rangeman number. They had shuffled them together and she would give them out without fearing an ongoing phone stalker experience.

"Not the wrong number," Carlos confirmed. "But Stephanie is currently unreachable. If you could leave your name and number I'll have her call you back."

*o*

The boys were at Rangeman under the ever watchful care of Ella for the night, but I strongly suspected that the men would have convinced her to let them play with them for a while before bedtime. Mat and Edi would have been thrilled by the idea of spending some time with their uncles in an environment that allowed them to play actively in the evening and indoors without being yelled at for running in the house. We would pick them up tomorrow morning before heading out to visit their Abuela and Bisabuela for lunch. And by the look on Carlo's face right now, they would be getting a talking to and possible mat time when they finally got home tomorrow afternoon.

Carlos had taken an extra long time when he went to pick up the boys – a task he insisted on performing solo on this particular day. I'd been a little worried that they might have gotten into trouble at school and he had to stay back and try to straighten things out with the teacher, but when Matias and Eduardo bounded into the control room at four o'clock with their overnight backpacks strapped on their backs my mind was set at ease that they'd just stopped by home to get some things for their sleep over. They sat at their desks in the control room and did their homework while Carlos and I finished off some work then we said their goodbyes. I'd like to say they were sad to see us go, knowing that they wouldn't be seeing us until the next day, but I'd be lying if I did. They were ecstatic about their Rangeman sleepover. I don't know what the men and Ella did to the boys, but they were guaranteed exhausted the next day, which I was eternally thankful for.

When we arrived home, Carlos scooped me up out of the passenger seat of the car and carried me into the living room which was all set up for an indoor picnic, complete with plush blanket to sit on and candles for mood lighting (battery operated, just in case anything _happened_ if you know what I mean). My darling husband had prepared a gourmet meal complete with Chocolate-Caramel cheesecake for dessert, which he was in the middle of feeding to me when we had first heard the noise.

He paused with the latest gooey forkful about two inches from my lips. I thought he was teasing me again at first, but then I heard it too. A clatter coming from the other end of the house. Wasting no time, Carlos set the fork back down – much to my tongue's displeasure – and stood, grabbing his gun from the end table where he'd discarded his holster earlier in the evening. He checked the safety and reminded me to keep quiet before stalking barefoot from the room, only his cargo pants clinging to his body.

Alone and, I have to admit, just a little apprehensive, I grabbed Carlos's cell phone and second gun from the end table and dragged myself into the space at the other end of the sofa where I would be hidden. Ordinarily, I probably would have thrown Carlos's shirt over my bra and panties and followed him, but my wheelchair was still in the boot of the car outside. Logistical issues.

I listened carefully, trying to pick up any footsteps, but all I could hear was the movement coming from what sounded, to my trained ear, like my sons' room. What any stalker, thief or general miscreant would want in a disaster of a room such as that inhabited by my two five year olds I had no idea, but they were in for the shock of a lifetime when Carlos no doubt kicked the door in. I waited a moment and in a pause in the rustling, heard a door bang open and my husband shout. His words were cut off abruptly, however, making my breath catch in my throat. What I would have given for my legs to work at that moment so I could at least tip-toe to the doorway and peer out so see if he was alright. I was contemplating dragging myself from my hiding place to do just that anyway, unnerved by the sudden silence, when Carlos's footsteps slapped against the tiled floor of the hall.

Next thing I knew he was standing just inside the doorway with a kitten hanging by the scruff of its neck from his raised hand. There was a stormy look on his face that I couldn't help but laugh at. If looks could kill that cat wouldn't be squirming anymore.

"I don't think you can have a cat arrested for breaking and entering," I giggled, hauling myself out from behind the couch and attempting to heft my weight up onto it while still holding the gun and cell phone. After a couple of goes I gave up, in favour of leaning against the couch, but Carlos crossed the room and – still holding the cat in one hand – looped his other arm under both of mine and around my back, heaving me onto the soft cushions.

"He's not breaking and entering, Babe," he assured me, taking the gun and phone from my hands and placing them back on the end table. "The boys have been harbouring a fugitive. I found a bowl with a small amount of milk still in. Some food scraps and a bucket of sand they have obviously provided for his toilet requirements."

I couldn't help but notice that just below the anger that was simmering in clear view was the puffed chest of a proud father. He was impressed with how well the boys had tended to the little kitty's needs, making sure it had a place to do its business. How many five year olds did you know of that would think of getting a bucket of sand from the backyard for the kitten they were hiding from their parents? He'd never admit to being proud of such a thing, though. It would undermine his anger at the twins.

"Are you sure it's a boy?" I asked, holding my hands out in the direction of the feline fugitive. My husband got what I wanted and held the small cat toward me. I took it gently in both hands settled it in my lap, stroking its ears and scratching its back. I wanted to check and see if I could determine a gender, but I didn't want to just flip it over and startle the crap out of it. Probably, he or she had just had the life scared out of it by the big bad man with the gun that had barged into its sanctuary. It just needed a moment to calm down and realise I didn't mean it any harm and then I would lift it up and play I-spy with its privates.

Carlos stood his ground, obviously determined not to give the kitten any signals that could be misinterpreted as him giving a damn about it. "I don't care what gender he is," he announced. "It's a cat. And the boys have been hiding it from us."

I lifted the kitten into the air, turning it slightly so that the cute end was pointed at Carlos. Making an exaggerated cutesy face beside the kitten's head, I asked him, "How can you say you don't care about the kitty? It's so cute and fluffy! Everybody loves kittens."

His eyes narrowed on me. "You want to keep it, don't you?"

"We can't just get rid of it, Carlos!" I exclaimed, clutching the tiny furry form to my chest. "It's so small and helpless. And the boys would be devastated.

"Babe," he said, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "It's only going to be a kitten for a short time. Before you know it it'll be a full grown cat."

"But I'll still love it!" I whined. "I promise! Pleeeeeaaaaaasse can we keep it?"

He let out a small breath that was his equivalent of a sigh and gave a short nod before announcing that he should retrieve my wheelchair from the car. When he came back in, he took the chair straight to our bedroom. He then went to clean out the cat evidence from the twins' room and set up a cat area in the laundry – complete with a nest of old blankets, I later noted. Now he was standing in the doorway watching me tease the kitten, which I was pretty sure was a girl, but drumming my fingers along the front of the couch for it to chase and attack. I loved watching her little bottom waggling back and forth as she prepared to pounce.

"This isn't exactly how I envisioned this evening ending," Carlos assured me, his arms crossed over his bare chest. He'd barely set foot in the room since leaving to get my chair.

I smirked up at him. "You thought you'd be the one getting pussy tonight?" I joked, scratching the kitten's belly as she kicked at my palm with her back legs, her tiny fangs chomping down on my finger. "I wonder if they've named her yet," I mused.

"We'll find out tomorrow, Babe," he said, closing the distance between us. "It's time for bed." He carefully extricated my hand from the sharp claws and teeth of the kitten and gently picked her up – I noticed he didn't go for the scruff of the neck tactic this time. After depositing the fluff ball in the laundry for the night, he returned and proceeded to carry me to bed where a stroking of a whole new kind followed long into the night. I could tell he had mixed feelings about being the owner of a cat, but he wasn't going to deny me, because it made me happy and what made me happy always seemed to make him happy too.

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_How am I doing? Please don't hesitate to leave me some feedback in the form of a review, or if you prefer, a private message._


	9. Chapter 8

_While I wait to find out if I get chicken pox (long story short, my friend got chicken pox from her mother I was with her for an entire weekend when she was in what her doctor informs her was part of her contagious period) I thought I'd update you all on the situation down at the Manoso residence..._

**Chapter 8**

I opened my eyes the next morning to find the kitten sharing my pillow – and by pillow I mean Carlos's bare, tanned, smooth, drool-worthy chest. Smiling lightly, I extended a hand to rub her ears. The blissful look on her face as she began to purr warmed my heart, the vibrations travelled up my arm.

"Babe," Carlos uttered softly, bringing his hand up to caress the back of my head and tuck a few stray curls behind my ear. The irony of his actions caused me to stifle a laugh, instead opting to let out my attempt at a purr, while rubbing my cheek against his chest. A coarser vibration ran through me as Carlos let out a low, rumbling laugh.

Startled, the kitten scrambled from his chest, eliciting a sharp groan as her little claws sank into his flesh involuntarily. She leaped rather clumsily from the side of the bed, her legs flailing in the air the moment she was fully suspended in the air. As soon as she hit the floor she was running and I sat up a little to watch as she squeeze out through the gap in the door we habitually left ajar at the night.

"I thought you locked her in the laundry," I mentioned, stretching my back.

"I did," Carlos confirmed, sitting up to examine the scratch mark on his abdomen. As he swiped the small beads of blood away, I shuffled my way across the large expanse of bed to grab him a tissue from the box on my bedside table. I held it out to him and he took it, even though he didn't really need it.

"How did she end up in here?" I asked.

Carlos stood and rounded the bed to stand before me as I manually swung my legs off the bed. He leaned down in front of me, moving my hands so that they were positioned on each of his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around my waist to assist in standing me up. It wasn't my intention to find an upright position so soon after waking up, but once my hands were in place I knew that Carlos wanted me to do so. We stood there a moment, just staring into each other's eyes. There was a familiar intensity in his that made me think that I probably wasn't going to like what came next.

"I'm going to step back," he informed me softly. "I'm not leaving you, I just want to see if you can stand unsupported."

My eyes widened. I'd been right. I didn't like what came next. My legs were still aching from yesterday's extended session with Bobby, and the extra ache in my arms told me that that particular effort had been largely thanks to my arms anyway. I wasn't sure I was ready for this. Probably, I would drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes the moment he let go.

"I would never let you fall, Babe," Carlos reminded me. I guess my thoughts had slipped out into the open due to my internal panic taking up so much brain space. He ran his thumb along my brow, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed there. "I believe in you," he whispered.

I sucking in a shaky breath and met his eyes once more, trying to absorb his confidence and serenity. Finally, when I thought I had my heart under control, I gave a slight nod and Carlos took a step back away from me. For the moment his hands were still on my waist and mine on his shoulders, as if we were simply holding each other at arms' length. My fingertips reflexively curled into the corded muscles of his shoulders.

"Relax," he coaxed. "You'll be fine. Baby steps. Let go of my shoulders and lower your hands. I'll keep hold of your waist until you're ready."

I tried to relax my fingers and let go, but I couldn't. It was as if my hands had frozen solid with fear.

"That's okay," Carlos assured me. "Don't worry. We'll go one finger at a time if we have to. It's fine."

A tear of frustration and self betrayal leaked from my eye and I swiped it away angrily with my left hand. As I went to return it to his shoulder I paused, clenching the hand to a fist about an inch from its intended destination. Breathing out slowly, I lowered my arm so that it hung stiffly by my side.

"Good, Babe," he encouraged. "You can do this. I know you can. Think of the pride on your sons' faces when they see you walking again."

Picturing my curly headed boys grinning up at me as we walked hand in hand in hand, I took another slow breath and let it out as I removed my other hand from his shoulder.

Carlos was smiling when I raised my head to look at him, for some reason, seeking approval that I had achieved what I set out to do. "That's it," he said warmly. "I'm not going to move my hands until you tell me to."

Looking directly into his dark brown eyes, I informed him in the shakiest voice I had mustered in a long time, "I hate you."

The corners of his eyes crinkled to show he didn't believe me as his thumbs stroked my rib cage tenderly. "I love you, too," he replied.

"Why are you making me do this?" I asked.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine in a brief kiss. "Because I love you and I want you to be able to live your life to its fullest again," he said, gently squeezing my waist.

"You never explained the kitten's presence in our bed," I prompted trying to distract myself as I placed my hands on top of his, slowly prising his fingers off my waist.

He kept his gaze locked on mine, not acknowledge what our hands were doing. I was thankful for this action since I wasn't sure I had the courage to continue if he was watching me. "The door mustn't have closed properly," he mentioned.

I didn't believe him for a moment. The great Carlos 'Ranger' Manodo would never lock up a prisoner and forget to close the door properly, even if the prisoner was a small animal. Narrowing my eyes at him, I questioned, "Then why didn't you just take her back when she climbed into bed with us?" It seemed ridiculous that he refused to let the boys sleep with us even if they were sick, but one tiny kitten could crawl in and he did nothing about it.

His eyes flickered to the side and back to me so fast I almost missed it. "You were sleeping on top of me," he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. He had to realise how feeble that excuse was. When Mat and Edi were younger and would wake up in the night he would slip out of bed, tend to their needs and sneak back in. For about a week I was under the blissful delusion that they had begun sleeping through the night, until Ranger explained that he hated waking me, so he just didn't.

Carlos glanced down at our hands, which now hung between us like teenagers saying goodbye, and grinned. Carefully, he slipped his fingers from mine and took another step back. I could feel my knees shaking, but was determined to stay up for my kind-hearted macho man.

"Perfect," he said, looking me up and down reverently. I stood before him in nothing but my panties and camisole, no wonder he had a lingering eye this morning. "Let's get you dressed." I started to protest as he took another step backwards, widening the space between us, but he held up a hand to stop me. "Count to ten and I'll be back before you know it."

"One," I said aloud. "Two, three, four."

"Slow down, Babe," he called from inside the wardrobe.

"Five." I recalled telling the boys to slow their counting by saying Mississipi in between each number. They'd had trouble with the word at the time – they _were_ only three and a half at the time – so we ended up changing it to elephants. "Six elephants," I said, making sure I was counting loud enough for me to hear. "Seven elephants."

Before I got to eight he was out of the wardrobe and standing in front of me. "See?" he said. "Six seconds."

"Eight," I corrected as he knelt in front of me. A million things he could do to me in that position sprinted through my head so fast I only had time to acknowledge them before the next in line pushed them out of the way."

"Six," he said firmly, "Your counting was too fast to start with. Lift your foot."

"I counted up to eight," I pointed out. "That means eight seconds regardless of how fast I count."

He shook his head and I watched his hair, which was always loose first thing in the morning, float back and forth with the movement. "You're as bad as Eduardo and Matias," he chuckled. "Lift your foot," he added, tapping my ankle.

Realising what he was doing, I looked down to find him holding my jeans, all bunched up and ready to slide over my foot. I don't know whether it was my sudden tilt forward to look down, or the sudden internal need to and want to do as my husband asked, but I lost my balance, catching myself on his shoulders. "I can't," I gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Yes you can," Carlos urged. "Hold on to me if you have to, but just _try_ to lift your foot off the ground."

Eventually he managed to get me dressed, though for all the effort I put it, I could only manage to lift my foot about a quarter of an inch off the floor. He beamed up at me as he pulled my jeans up my legs, his face full of pride. "Good job, Babe," he praised, nipping at my inner thighs as he continued to pull my pants up. My fingertips dug into his shoulders as a shot of pleasure raced through me.

"Carlos, you just got my pants on," I pointed out. "Don't make me wish they were off."

"We don't need to take them off," he mentioned. "We've worked around them before."

At that moment there was a small chirrup from near the door and we both looked over to find the kitten looking up at us with that hungry look in her eyes. We knew hungry eyes when we saw them; after all, we were raising two boys that were directly related to me. If they weren't hungry, they were sleeping.

"I think she's hungry," I chuckled as Carlos sat back on his heels.

"I'll get dressed then feed her," he said, ensuring I was still stable as he stood. I buttoned the fly on my jeans and he turned me so that all I had to do was sit down in the wheelchair. He set my bra and a flowy peasant top on the bed for me to put on before disappearing once more into the wardrobe. I pulled on the clothes and wheeled over to the doorway he'd gone through. "Boots?" he asked with his back to me as he pulled on a form fitting button through shirt of incredibly pale blue.

"Yes please," I responded and scrutinised the shirt as he bent to retrieve my soft brown leather boots from the bottom shelf. "How long have you had that shirt?"

To my surprise, he let out a sigh as he handed me my boots. "Celia sent it about a month ago." I raised my eyebrows at him, silently asking why he was wearing it if didn't like it. He shook his head. "She was hinting that I never used a single gift she's ever given me, and that it'd be nice to see me use at least one."

"That's not true!" I exclaimed. "We use that dish she got us as a wedding gift all the time!"

He smiled, buttoning up the pale shirt. "I don't think she intended it to be a key dish," he said.

I rolled back and started pulling on my boots. "At least we use it," I mumbled.

*o*

Typically, the boys were hiding from us when we arrived at Haywood. Ella informed us that she had taken them down for breakfast with the men on four and hadn't seen them since. We thank her for babysitting, which apparently was a useless gesture because she loved the terrors like grandsons and would die if we didn't let her have them every once in a while, and made our way to the fourth floor to start the investigation.

"And this is why we left early," I muttered, shaking my head. In the last couple of years I'd actually found that I getting better at being on time, to the point where I'd actually started arriving to appointments a few minutes early. "It's a good thing it's your family and not mine," I reminded him. "The whole world would end if turned up late to a meal with my family. Your mother actually knows what the warmer button on the oven is for."

Lester and Bobby were sprawled across a collective of half a dozen office chairs in the middle of the comm. centre, munching on muesli bars while staring at a couple of pieces of paper.

"They split up," Lester said when he saw us. For a moment I thought he was referring to whatever he was reading, until he added, "Mat when left, probably to the general meeting room. Edi went right. Best guess is the supply cupboard."

As Carlos went left, I started to go right, but Bobby spoke, grabbing my attention. "I took the liberty of scanning that crossword into the computer and uploading it to the database," he mentioned. "I also created a forum thread on the internal board for it so we don't waste time puzzling over a clue that someone else has already solved. All the men have been added to the thread so they'll know about it."

I blinked in confusion, finding Eduardo momentarily wiped from my brain. Why would he get the entire company involved in a crossword that had nothing to do with them? "Why?" I simply asked.

Bobby shrugged, "Sometimes we like puzzles that don't rely on dead bodies for clues."

Rolling my eyes at his offhand mention of death, I started rolling again. "I'll keep that in mind," I called over my shoulder as Carlos returned from his end with a squirming Matias tossed over his shoulder. He dumped the kid on Lester with the command to keep a hold on him until he got back and strode past me in the direction of the supply cupboard.

Tank poked his head out of the break room and spotted me straight away, like he was looking for me specifically. "Steph," he called, crossing the floor in large easy steps. "Just the person I need to speak to. That Brodie guy called for you, he'd like his crossword back as soon as you can manage it."

"I don't suppose he sounded like he'd like to wait until Monday?" I asked, knowing that I really shouldn't have kept it from him this long in the first place. It's not like I did it deliberately though. I was just going to keep it long enough to make a copy of it then give it back, and then life happened and it got shoved to the back of my mind.

"If you have it on you, I could have one of the guys run it over for you this morning," Tank offered.

Relief washed over me. I didn't enjoy making people angry, and I had a theory that no matter how nice someone was, they could get ugly if pushed too long. Finding that limit was not high on my list of priorities. "That'd be great," I thanked him. "It's in the blue plastic folder on my desk."

Just then, Carlos came barrelling back into the area with Eduardo tucked under one arm like a football. My boy was giggling profusely, his arms clinging to that of his father. When he reached Lester, he set Eduardo on the man's stomach next to Matias and crouched down in front of them.

"I have a surprise for you," he intoned, looking from one to the other. They bounced up and down excitedly. "You remember when you asked if you could have a pet and I said no?" Matias nodded enthusiastically while Eduardo's eyes got wide. "Well, I talked it over with Mommy and she said that if you're really good you can have a kitten."

"Yeah!" they exclaimed in perfect unison, leaping off their uncle and wrapping their arms around their father in a hug. A moment later, they bounded over to me and climbed onto the footrests of my chair in order to give me my hug as well. "Thank you, Mommy!" Eduardo enthused as they got back down, but I noticed Mat had taken on a very serious expression. It may well be that Carlos's plan was working all ready.

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_~Insert attempt to encourage readers to become reviewers here, reminding them that words from them usually inspire words from you in the form of a new chapter~ _


	10. Chapter 9

_Still no sign of sickness at all, so I'm going to assume that I'm not going to get the chicken pox. Here's a shorter than usual chapter for you all. It's short because every time I tried to add more to it it just didn't seem right. Even changing scene was giving me weird, delete-it feelings. So I decided short was best._

**Chapter 9**

Some events happen in the blink of an eye. They're here and gone and over with before you even know what's happened. Others drag on so slowly that its as if you're in a slow motion film. Every movement is exaggerated and its almost as if gravity is an idea that exists only in your mind. Usually, the events that go by quickly are the ones you want to savour, like eating ice cream. Unfortunately, the ones that pass by in a frame by frame manner are usually the events we would rather didn't happen.

This was one of those times.

I was stood in the doorway to the Manoso dining room, one hand propped against the door frame as an extra bit of insurance that I didn't fall over while Carlos stowed my wheelchair out of the way. The dining room was small enough without trying to fit everyone around it, let alone making room for my chair. So I had decided to ditch it for the meal. Celia and Mama Manoso had tried to argue that they could rearrange the chairs so that it would fit, but I just shook my head and met my husbands gaze.

Stephanie will be fine," Carlos had reassured them. "I'll make sure of it."

So there I was, waiting for the love of my life to return and quite literally sweep me off my feet. Lope and Natanael, Carlos's older brothers, were already at the table, battering back and forth in rapid-fire Spanish so I couldn't join in. Celia herded her husband and teenage son through the doorway that connected the dining room and kitchen and in a move so fluid and familiar it had to be genetic, placed the basket of rolls on the table and slapped each of her brothers upside the head. Her comment was equally rapid as she seemed to admonish them and gesture to me. The men looked over, saw me standing there -probably with a really concentrated expression on my face - and started apologusung. In English, thank God, though the fact that they were both talking at the same time meant that I still had no idea exactly what they were saying.

After a moment or so I held up a hand and took a stab in the dark. "Its okay," I told them. "You don't have to apologise for speaking Spanish. I guess I should make more of an effort to learn anyway."

Celia shook her head and started around the table to me. "Its not that," she said, glancing over he shoulder. "Although, now that you mention it, that was quite rude of them."

"I've learned to expect that from the pair of them," I informed her, recalling Christmas a few years earlier when they had decided it would be funny to put ice down my back. Admittedly, it was a little bit fun to get payback on them, but the verdict was still set to rude.

"They should have helped you to a seat," Celia informed me. "Clearly you're in no shape to get there yourself."

I started to way that it was okay, that I was perfectly capable of standing still and waiting for Carlos to get back, when I heard two pairs of little feet racing up the hall. Carlos called for them to walk because they were inside, but it was too late, the momentum was already built up. There was no way they could have slowed in time.

Eduardo came quarrelling through the space left in the doorway, surprisingly managing to not even brush my leg. He skidded to a stop beside Lope and expertly bounced up onto the chair beside him. With Matias, I was not so lucky. He was just as fast as his brother, but as always, his accuracy left something to be desired. He knocked my leg as he scrambled into the room, causing both my knees to immediately give out. I felt myself falling and tried to grab on to something to keep myself up while simultaneously channeling all the strength I had in my body to my knees so that they might, by some miracle, straighten up and save me from my imminent descent. In my flailing attempt to find leverage, I must have knocked the floor standing lamp, as it was the shade was smashed to a million pieces by the time I hit the floor. There was a painful jolt as my ass mettle solid mass below me and as that initial pain ebbed away slightly, I became aware of the stinging in both of my hands as well as my ass.

"Mommy!" Mat and Edi exclaimed, panic evident in their voices.

"Stay in you seats," I commanded, envisioning their little feet cut to shreds by the glass shards. "Mommy's alright. Just stay where you are."

Celia was bent over attempting to make sure I wasn't seriously injured, but straightened up the moment I felt Carlos's presence behind me. He picked up my right hand, inspecting the damage I'd done and attempting to brush off some of the loose glass. I hissed in a breath as his action managed to jar the slivers that had embedded themselves into my palm. "Babe," he sighed, shaking his head slightly. Without another word, he scooped me up off the floor and carried me through the dining room, past his family, and into the kitchen where he set me on the bench next to the sink.

Another small gasp escaped me as he sat me down, and I noticed a slight twinkle in Carlos's eyes. He was laughing at me! Here I was in pain and he was laughing at me. "It's not funny, mister," I told him. "It's in my ass!"

"That's what she said," came Nat's amused voice from the doorway.

I glared over Carlos's shoulder at my brother-in-law. "Yes," I acknowledged. "That's what I said. Now leave so I can drop trow."

He tipped his head and bowed out of the room. As he slid the door closed we heard a distinct tattling voice as he called out, "Carlos is undressing a woman in the kitchen!"

We rolled our eyes at each other, silently agreeing that Nat was immature as Carlos helped me to stand and lean over the counter so he could begin pulling the glass shards from my rear end. Luckily, lunch was not a hot serve deal, so nothing was ruined. In fact, by the time Carlos had ensured that my body was glass free, all my wounds had been tended to and he'd carried me back into the dining room, the glass had been cleared away and the boys were already half way through a plate of food each. Nobody else was eating.

"What happened to waiting for Mom and Dad?" Carlos asked the twins as he settled into the chair between me and them.

"We were hungry," Eduardo explained around a mouthful of bread.

"And Abuela said we could eat," Matias added.

Across the table my nephew, Isaac, leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm hungry, too," he muttered, which earned him a prompt slap to the back of the head from Celia – it was her specialty.

"Shut your trap," she said sternly. "You're older, you know how to wait."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Abuela only told them to eat to keep Matias from crying," he pointed out.

Carlos's eyes immediately went to the small boy who was picking at his salad. Mat didn't look up, just shoved a small piece of lettuce in mouth and chewed slowly. "Matias, were you upset?" he asked our son gently.

Matias nodded his head slowly, looking at the table cloth. "Because I hurted Mommy and now I'm going to be in trouble," he murmured and I could hear the tears forming.

That was it. My heart was crushed by the forlorn tone to his voice. I wished my legs were fully functioning, I would have scooped him up from his chair and held him to my chest until he was sure I was okay. As it was, I was stuck in my chair, but that didn't mean I couldn't comfort my little boy. I nudged Carlos in the arm and made a gesture with my bandaged hands. The next thing I knew Mat was deposited in my lap and his face was pressed against my chest.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said.

I hugged him tight, delving my fingers into his beautiful curls and told him, "Its okay, baby. It was an accident. You didn't mean it."

I managed to calm him down and reassure him I was alright fairly quickly, which was followed by a quick reminder to both the boys that they shouldn't run in the house because bad things happened and then we were all eating. The afternoon was fairly uneventful after that, with the possible exception of Mat almost knocking over his water. It would have gone down if Carlos hadn't had such amazing reflexes. Clearly, Mat took more after me than his father, we'd been noticing lately in particular that he seemed a lot clumsier than his brother.

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_Don't forget to review. You know I love hearing from you all._


	11. Chapter 10

_Okay. Quick little author's note before I have to go have dinner and get ready for choir. Yay! Another chapter!_

**Chapter 10**

I think the boys were caught off guard when we arrived home that evening. They ran straight to their room to sort out the laundry from their overnight bags and add it to the hamper so that Carlos could get a load of washing on. They hadn't been out of sight more than three seconds before we heard their half panicked, half amazed cries. "She's gone!" they exclaimed without thinking. This was followed by a slightly quieter argument and then Eduardo stuck his head out into the hall, looking straight at us with wide eyes while Carlos continued to undo his boots.

"Is everything alright, sweetie?" I called, manoeuvring past my husband.

His eyes got wider when I came closer and he hastily nodded his head. "We're fine, Mom," he assured me. And he disappeared back into the room he shared with his brother. Their voices rose up again, accompanied by the sounds of them tearing the room apart, apparently looking for their lost kitten. I met Carlos's gaze and we shared a silent chuckle before he started down the hall in socked feet to spy on them.

While he was listening to our children panic and worry, I went to check on the kitten, which we had locked back in the laundry for the day so it didn't somehow destroy the house. After all, it was use to being shut away in a closet most of the time. If we suddenly gave it free range of the house, an epic disaster – bigger than the standards set by me, even – would ensue. I opened the door slowly, careful not to startle the baby. When it was fully open, I rolled myself in a short ways so I could see where she was hiding, but there was no sign of her. And now that I thought about it, the door hadn't been closed properly – why that didn't occur to me when I first started opening it, I had no idea.

"Carlos!" I called urgently. I met him in the hall, mere second later, looking up into his concerned face. "She's not in there," I informed him, then narrowed my eyes suspiciously to add, "The door wasn't closed properly."

Rather than provide an explanation, he travelled his gaze down the hall toward our bedroom. As always, the door was ajar. I knew exactly where his mind was. The kitten had ended up in our bed this morning, so chances were she'd made her way back there after we'd left. I could just picture her curled up on Carlos's pillow, waiting for him to return. He may not be too fond of the kitten, but the kitten as absolutely smitten with him. As it should be, really, I'd never met a female who wasn't enamoured with the man. Thankfully for me, he was entirely too enamoured with me to notice anyone else looking.

"Meet me in the kitchen," he said, and strolled purposefully down the hall.

I knew what that meant. Family Court Martial. I'd gotten myself a drink of water and settled at the kitchen table by the time Carlos returned with the kitten in hand. She seemed absolutely content to be held by the buff man, but he dumped her in my lap. Immediately, she snuggled in and I stroked her eyes idly.

"Boys!" he called sternly.

There was a small crash and then the sounds of hurrying feet as they raced to their father, knowing the dire consequences if they didn't appear in a timely fashion. And they _really_ liked their sweets. They skidded into the room, Mat narrowly missing his brother. Their eyes darted between the both of us, probably trying to work out exactly what this was about. Deciding whether they should fess up about the kitten or keep it under wraps for the time being. I adjusted my hold on the small furry creature in my lap, drawing their attention.

"Toaster!" Edi exclaimed, earning him an elbow in the side from his brother. His eyes widened as he looked up at us. "The toaster looks dirty," he tried to amend.

Carlos took a seat at the table, folding his hands on the surface and eyeballing his sons. "Juanito Matias and Tomas Eduardo Manoso," he started, and I shivered like I always did when he said their full names. "You are being charged with harbouring a fugitive." This was met with blank stares. The boys were only five, they probably had no idea what half that sentence meant. "You've been hiding the kitten in your room," Carlos accused. The boys hung their heads, staring at their socks. "State your case."

"We've been taking real good care of her," Matias started, looking up through the curls that had fallen in his face.

"We give her water at night," Edi added, lifting his head just enough so that his own hair slipped to the side so he could see us.

"And milk in the morning," Mat pointed out.

"We took her our left over dinner," Edi provided.

"And we got a bucket of sand from the sand pit for her to do her poos and wees in," they said together, simultaneously raising their heads, twin expressions of hope spread across their faces. They were clearly impressed with their own thoughtfulness, and it made me wonder how they had thought to provide so carefully for the cat.

Carlos looked between the pair, his blank face in place in order to not give anything away. "When you asked if you could have a pet, what did I say?"

"No," the grumbled, faces falling.

"But you still brought a cat into the house," he prompted.

Silence. I knew Carlos wasn't going to give in and let them know that we were keeping the cat so soon, he'd let them sweat it out a little. So his next move was a complete mystery to me. I watched the boys as they fiddled with the hems of their t-shirts, twisting them up and scrunching them in their hands before smoothing them out and starting again.

I placed a hand on Carlos's thigh to get his attention and gave him a questioning look. He answered with a barely perceptible nod to show that he was nearly done, before turning back to the boys.

"Why did you do it?" I asked them.

Their heads snapped up at my question. They hadn't been expecting to be asked that, but I felt it was important for us to understand their motivations before we sentenced them to a month's worth of floor scrubbing or whatever else we came up with. Mat's eyes darted from my calm, serene face to his father's blank-with-a-hint-of-stern expression, probably wondering if it was wise for him to answer my question. After all, I didn't usually speak during these hearings unless it was absolutely necessary. My presence was more to make sure that he wasn't being too harsh on them. I could handle the small punishments like when they fought etc, but these big court martial things were a little beyond me.

With the hand still resting on his thigh, I squeezed gently, sending him a message to allow the boys to plead their case.

"Proceed," he said mildly.

"She was dumped in a drain," Matias explained immediately.

"In a plastic bag," Eduardo put in.

Carlos narrowed his eyes. "Which was it?" he asked. "A drain or a plastic bag?"

"Both!" they exclaimed in unison.

"She was meowing really loudly and trying to get out, so we rescued her," Eduardo detailed. "Then we put her in Mat's backpack to bring her home."

My heart swelled with pride for my babies that they would risk their father's wrath to help an innocent kitten. Even if it had been the wrong thing to do, and probably dangerous depending on the type of drain they were referring to it was the right thing to do to help the little creature.

"Why didn't you tell us?" my husband asked, and I swear to God, his tone was just a smidgen softer.

Mat looked him directly in the eye, knowing the importance of his next statement. "You said no," he said.

"Sweets," I spoke up once more. "If you'd told Daddy about the kitten you rescued he would have helped you take care of her."

My blue eyes boy moved his solemn gaze to my own face and reiterated, "Dad said no."

A thought popped into my head as I stared into my son's eyes. What if, in their own minds at least, they _had_ told Carlos about it? I turned to face my husband. "When was the most recent time they asked if they could have a pet?" I asked him quietly, but with a sense of urgency as I attempted to piece together the missing puzzle pieces of my theory.

"About a week and a half ago," he replied, looking confused."

"Boys." I spun once more to face them. "When did you save the kitten?"

"Toaster," Edi said.

I blinked rapidly, trying to understand. That wasn't the answer I'd been looking for, or even expecting. It made no sense. "Toaster?" I enquired.

Mat nodded. "It's her name."

"You named the cat Toaster?" Carlos asked before I had a chance to process what they were saying. They nodded enthusiastically, grins spreading across their faces. "Why?"

"Because we love Pop Tarts!" they cried together, bouncing up and down.

I couldn't help but giggle at their cute logic, and noticed that even Carlos was smiling. Looking down at the dozing cat in my lap, I uttered softly, "Toaster?" Her little ears pricked up so I tried again. "Toaster," I called, and this time her eyes blinked open and she stared straight at me. I had to admit, Toaster suited her somehow.

Once we'd all calmed down, Carlos addressed the twins. "Tomas Eduardo and Juanito Matias Manoso, on the charge of bringing an unauthorised kitten into the house, how do you plea?"

Their happy-go-lucky expressions fell from their faces as they replied dutifully, "Guilty."

A short nod from Carlos. "I hereby sentence you to two weeks without X-Box privileges and a lifetime of caring for Toaster, starting right now."

Edi's jaw fell open as he stared at his father. "You mean we can keep her?" he asked, utterly gobsmacked.

"As long as you look after her," he responded. "Now go get your dirty laundry. We'll put a load of washing on then go get some proper kitten food and other things we'll need to make Toaster feel at home."

"Yeah!" they shouted and practically ran from the room – except they couldn't have been running because they were inside and we don't run inside.

When they were out of sight, Carlos shook his head from side to side slowly. "You didn't make them tell you how long they'd had it," I informed him pointedly.

"Didn't need to," he responded, entwining his fingers with mine where they still rested on his thigh. "I got where you were heading with your line of questioning."

"They defied your authority to save a kitten," I pointed out, unable to keep the smile from my face as the kitten in question climbed cautiously onto the arm of my wheelchair and reached a paw out toward Carlos.

"Reminds me of someone else I know," he said, leaning in to kiss my neck before pulling away sharply and looking down at his lap. Toaster had taken the opportunity to leap the short distance to sit on his thigh, looking up at him with big, adorable, expectant eyes. "Don't get used to this," Carlos muttered, reluctantly scratching the kitten's head. I couldn't help but laugh at the unlikely pair.

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_Don't forget to review. Next chapter I'll probably start solving some crossword clues._


	12. Chapter 11

_As promised, this chapter, I start solving clues of the crossword. And just in case you don't have the clues at hand while you're reading this, I have included the cues into the chapter, despite my first draft which merely stated the number and the solution. _

**Chapter 11**

There was yelling coming from all corners of the office when I rolled out of the elevator Monday morning. In one ear I was battered by a very loud argument, the subject of which was undeterminable, while the other was subjected to excited whooping. It was a little like being in a crowded bar, but without the pressing bodies, alcohol and smell of urine. Carlos and I stopped, staying absolutely still as we attempted to pick up individual lines of conversation. I sent him a questioning look as he cocked his head to the side, but he didn't say anything. Instead he stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a long, loud whistle. The entire floor went completely silent.

"General meeting," Carlos said, barely raising his voice. His men were just _expected_ to hear him, which they always did.

It always amazed me watching the diversity of the Rangemen and their methods of gaining attention. All Tank had to do, for example, was stand up, or walk into a room with a certain air about him. Carlos could get away with that as well, but in a situation like this, it clearly wasn't going to work. Lester tended to put on his drill sergeant voice and bark out some commands, which, again, Carlos was known to do, but only in dire situations.

"Five minutes," Carlos went on, drawing me out of my thoughts. "All staff. Skeleton on deck." And with that, he leaned down, dropping a kiss on my forehead before heading for his office.

Assuming that 'all staff' included me, despite my lack of enthusiasm for meetings, I started toward my cubicle to pick up my laptop. If I was going to be made to sit through a dang meeting I may as well have something to do. Probably, I wouldn't even be needed to contribute. It wasn't like I was the expert on anything much other than searches around here, and what were the chances of them needing me to run a search or give them a refreshed on how to get the results they want themselves? Hopefully, zilch.

When I made it to the conference room with twenty seconds to share it was to find that as always, I was the last to arrive. Jews fine with that, usually, but something about being the last to arrive AND being in a wheelchair just made me self conscious. Not only where they all watching me as I entered, I had to manoeuvre myself around all the people in the room. And let me tell you, it was packed. Standing room only, kind of packed. I couldn't even see the conference table.

"We saved you a seat with a clear view of the screen," Tank informed me when I stopped in the doorway. I glanced beyond him in the direction he hiked his thumb, which I knew to be the end of the table and noted that there were at least two dozen people between me and it. Why had I never realised how many staff we have on each shift?

Making a decision, I hauled myself into an upright position and gave my chair a shove so that it went back out into the hall. Tank raised an eyebrow T me, silently asking what I was doing. "Can I get a lift to my spot?" I requested by way of explanation. His eyebrows shot up to meet where his hairline would have been if he had hair. It was quite comical, and I probably would have laughed had I not been concentrating on staying upright. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"You're standing," he stated the obvious, pointing to my legs.

"No shit, Sherlock," I rolled my eyes and lifted my arms. "Now give us a lift." He looked over my shoulder nervously, as if checking that Carlos wasn't watching, not that it really mattered, because even if he did get angry about the fact that I asked someone other than him to carry me somewhere, he'd get over it. It was only Tank. "Seriously, Tank," I prompted, getting impatient. "What's the worst he can do to you? I've seen your sparring sessions, no one wins. Ever." I wiggled my fingers in the hopes that he would just do it, and was rewarded when he scooped me up and walked quickly in the direction he'd indicated. The men in the way hurriedly scurried to the side to let us through and before I had the chance to take two breaths we were standing directly next to Lester and Bobby who were quite obviously guarding the space at the very end of the table. But there was no chair. I raised my eyes at them, but remained silent.

"Aw, come on!" Lester complained. "You have your own chair that you take everywhere! We thought all we needed to do was save a space."

"Now we're gonna have to make one of these guys stand," Bobby added, gesturing to the table full of Merry Men.

I almost laughed at their exaggerated grousing, but the fact that Hal, who was sitting nearby, immediately stood and moved his chair into the space at the end of the table gave me pause. "Set me on my feet," I requested of Tank. As soon as he did so, I beckoned Hal back over and gave him a quick hug, thanking him for giving up his chair before I plopped into it.

When I raised my gaze from the table, intending to check if the screen had come alive yet so I could attempt to work out the reason for this gathering, I found myself staring directly into my husband's eyes. He stood at the opposite end of the table, hands braced on the surface as he eyed me with a semi-closed expression, one eyebrow raised in question. As if in reply to that eyebrow, which was the only expression-like feature currently residing on his face, I raised my hand and gave him a finger wave.

The corners of his mouth tilted up slightly, but his brow remained erect.

"You weren't there," I called down to him, assuming he wasn't happy about someone other than himself carrying me anywhere. "Tank was."

"Babe," was all he said before he lifted two objects from the table in front of him. My laptop and handbag which I had, of course left in my wheelchair when I shoved it back out into the hall. I sent him a smile as I reached my hands out in a gimme-gimme gesture. He shook his head and disappeared from sight only to reappear at my side a moment later. How he'd managed to get all the way down to me, through the masses of oversized bodies, in so little time, I had no idea, but it was these mysteries that kept me entertained.

"You should have waited for me," he said softly, placing my laptop in front of me and my handbag beside my chair. "I was literally walking down the hall when you wheelchair exited the room of it's own free will."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You always say I should ask for help when I need it, Carlos," I pointed out. "So I did. It's not like it was some random stranger. It was only Tank. I figured you'd be okay with it."

"I am," he assured me, despite the fact that I knew the two men were going to have a more aggressive than usual sparring session later on. Giving yet another eye roll, I pulled him down to me so I could place a firm kiss on his lips. When I released my hold on him he was gone in an instant, reappearing almost immediately in front of the screen. He raised one hand and the chatter that had filled the room ceased.

"First in, best dressed," he announced cryptically, locking eyes with a few obviously key people in the room. "I don't care if you came up with the answer first, if someone else posts it before you, get over it. This is not a competition."

Unfortunately, even with his longer explanation, I was at a loss as to what he was talking about. I tried looking past him to the projector screen that usually held a clue as to the subject of the meeting. It was blank. Silently sighing, I opened up my laptop and brought up a chat window. _What are we here for?_ I typed to Lester, knowing he was the most likely of all the men to reply to me during a meeting because he was constantly being told off for not paying attention. I listened to my husband lecturing his employees some more while I waited for a response. Nothing he was saying pointed directly to any kind of misdemeanour I was aware of the guys committing.

After a few moments, Lester got back to me in the form of a link. I clicked on it and it took me to what looked to be a Rangeman discussion board. Quickly skimming the first post, which had been left by Bobby I realised this was about the crossword. I scrolled down the discussion, noting a few theories on what the solutions could be, but the further down the page I got, the more the discussion dissolved into arguments over who came up with what solution. Now it all made sense. If they'd been at this all weekend it had probably developed into the noisy mess we'd walked into this morning when we arrived.

"Now," Carlos stated, regaining my attention with his crisp tone. "We're going to go through the answers as a group for the next fifteen minutes and then I want groups of five in here around the clock working on getting all the answers filled in. If you're not in here, you're not working on the crossword."

_Ohhh-kay... We were seriously treating a random man's dead father's crossword with that level of importance? _

The crossword grid appeared on the screen behind him with only TRENTON filled in.

"Fifteen across is ANGEL," I provided, recalling Bobby's genius break through last week. A curser appeared in the fifteen box and someone typed in ANGEL. I then pulled up the clues to attempt to follow along as more answers were called out from around the room.

"Ten across is CAKE," someone I couldn't see announced. I read the clue: _Cate liked her baked goods._ I guess I can see how they could get that.

"Four down is CAR," another put in. _She couldn't finish her carrot on the drive home._ Okay, that one was pretty straight forward too, I suppose. The ball just seemed to roll after that.

"Fourteen down is FLY." _What a pest! Buzzing about high in the sky!_

"Seventeen across is STUN GUNG," Tank said slowly, staring over my shoulder at the clues on my laptop screen.

I read over the clue – _Nuts about a weapon that goes off with a bang –_ and I got the 'gun' part, but I couldn't figure how he'd gotten 'stun' out of it. I said as much to him and he pointed out that NUTS is STUN backwards. It hit me anew just how useless I was at these things.

"Two across," Lester said, raising his voice a little in excitement. "_The extreme plot had all eyes on disaster_. It's EXPLOSION!" He was practically yelling by the time he got to his solution, making me shy away, since he was leaning over my other shoulder.

Carlos spoke up then, striking fear into my heart with the tone of his slow, calculated words. "Five across is BOUNTY HUNTER," he said so quietly that I almost didn't gear him. My chest constricted as a hush fell over the room once more. They'd all heard it too. His tone was one that suggested something was up. I couldn't take my eyes off his face for fear of missing something vital.

"Shit," Bobby uttered from directly behind me, prompting grumbles of agreement from Tank and Lester.

Confused, I turned to look at the three of them, a questioning look clearly evident on my face. Tank leaned in further and highlighted the solutions I'd been typing in as they were provided: Trenton, Explosion, Car, Bounty Hunter, Cake, Fly, Angel, Stun Gun. I stared at the words a moment before letting out a barely audible, "Ah hell." I had no time to act on my despair further, however, as my cell phone began ringing loudly from my purse.

I dug it out as quickly as I could while Carlos shoved his way to my end of the room to confer with Tank, Bobby and Lester, and groaned when I read the caller ID.

"Hello, Stephanie speaking," I greeted, keeping my apprehension under wraps until I knew exactly why the boys' school would be calling me.

"Mrs Manoso, how are you?" the woman asked pleasantly, like there wasn't a thing wrong in the world, when clearly, if she was calling me there had to be.

"I'm fine," I replied, feeling myself begin to tense. "Are the boys okay?"

"Of course," she assured me and I could just _tell _she was smiling. "Juanito and Tomas are just fine." I rolled my eyes at that. Obviously, if she was referring to them as Juanito and Tomas she had no idea. It was a tradition in the Manoso family that the men would be known by their middle names. As such, the only time we used their first names was when they were in trouble. "I was just calling because I noticed you haven't scheduled a PTI yet."

"A what?" I asked, not understanding.

"A parent teacher interview," she pronounced carefully, maybe thinking I was a bit slow.

"I didn't know I had to," I informed the woman, probably playing directly into her _this-woman-is-stupid_ plot.

"Did you read the letter we sent out a few weeks ago?"

"I was actually in a rehabilitation facility a few weeks ago," I explained, cringing at how bad that could actually come across, since I hadn't given the full amount of information. "My husband didn't mention anything about a parent-teacher interview, though," I added, slightly louder than usual in order to gain the attention of said husband, whom I knew was standing nearby.

When I twisted in my seat to catch his reaction he just lifted an eyebrow. "No clue," he mouthed.

"Well that's okay," the woman was saying. "We can just organise one now. Are you and your husband available at all today?" she queried.

I quickly pulled up Carlos's schedule on my laptop to check and found that he had absolutely no meetings today. "Yes, we're available," I confirmed.

"Fabulous," the lady said cheerily. "We have a time slot free in a half hour. Is that too soon?"

"Sounds perfect," I assured her.

"Great. I'll pop you down. You just need to come to the administration office to grab a visitor's badge before you head down to Juanito and Tomas's classroom." She was talking fast, like she really wanted to get off the phone. "Okay, I'll see you soon." I barely had time to say goodbye before she hung up.

"What was that about?" Carlos asked as I closed my laptop and dropped my phone into my bag.

"That was one of the office ladies from the school," I informed him, slowly pulling myself into an upright position. "Get a security team together; we're going out."

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, stepping forward with a worried expression. "Are the twins okay?"

I mentally slapped my forehead for once again making the situation sound worse than it was by leaving out details. "They're fine," I assured the entire room – all the mean had shut up and turned to stare at me apprehensively at Bobby's words. "The security team is for my safety. I figured that until we figured out _why_ this crossword seemed to be about me, I should probably have back up, even when I'm out with Carlos." I locked eyes with Carlos to make sure I was doing the right thing, the pride his eyes telling me he was glad I'd suggested it rather than having to be forced to put up with it. "It's just a parent-teacher interview," I added, just for the extra clarification.

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_DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNN! Okay, who's gonna review?_


	13. Chapter 12

_Oh. My. Gosh. I am so tired. Not only have I had more than double my usual number of hours at work (not that I'm complaining, because usually I get pretty much nothing), but I've been practically living at my rehearsal hall. By the end of next week I will have been there nine days out of fourteen. Anyway. Here's the next chapter. Go ahead and read it. I dare you._

**Chapter 12**

The woman I'd spoken to over the phone looked most apologetic when Carlos and I entered the office twenty minutes later. She met my gaze only once before scurry to the back of the admin area. Carlos guided my chair over to the desk where Janelle, the regular office lady, was waiting to help us out.

"She's new," Janelle explained when I glanced over toward the other woman. "Thought she had a major piece of gossip with you having been in rehab. She came straight over to us when she hung up. Caroline got angry at her for assuming it was drug related."

"I didn't exactly help by not giving the full information," I defended, signing my name in the visitor's book she handed down to me.

"Babe," Carlos said, which I took to translate roughly into _You're too understanding._

"Either way," Janelle agreed with my husband. "She shouldn't make assumptions like that." She handed us our visitor badges and directed us toward the boys classroom.

When we arrive there was a group of children playing fairly quietly at the back of the rom. I spotted my two curly tops amongst them just as their heads snapped up simultaneously, despite the distance between them.

"Mommy!" Edi exclaimed racing over to give me a hug. I almost burst into giggles when I saw what he was wearing. A pink tutu had been pulled on over his jeans and an animal tail that looked like it might belong to a kangaroo trailed out the bottom of the skirt.

"Look at you!" I exclaimed enthusiastically, knowing that if I made fun of his choice of dress it could hurt his development.

"What are you wearing?" Carlos asked him from behind me, his forced uppity tone only just masking the horror I knew he was feeling. I reached my hand up to cover his where it rested on the back handle of my chair in an attempt to keep him calm. He was, of course, of the mind that boys should not be interested in 'girly things' which definitely included wearing skirts and dresses. Everyone I spoke to in the matter, however, said that it was good for them to explore things out of their typical gender role because it broke down the barrier and created equality. I'd told him this, as had his mother and my mother and even my dad, but he couldn't just switch that part of himself off. He wanted his boys to act like boys, but he understood the importance of allowing them a well rounded life experience.

"I'm a unicorn!" Edi announced proudly, regaining my attention.

"And a very handsome one at that," I agreed, curling a lock of his hair around my finger. "You go back and play with your friends now," I suggested. "Daddy and I are just going to talk to you teacher."

Mat gasped beside me, alerting me to the fact that he had come to join our group. "Have we been bad?" he asked anxiously.

"Course not," Carlos said knowingly and all three of us breathe a sigh of relief before Mat and Edi skipped off to join the tower building frenzy.

The boys' teacher, Miss Jones, swooped in the moment they had rejoined the group, shaking our hands and thanking us for coming at such short notice. "You handled Edi's costume choice remarkably well," she acknowledged, locking eyes with Carlos. "Most fathers I've witnessed would have gone off their rocker at such a thing."

"I've learned to expect the unexpected where my family is concerned," he provided coolly, deliberately leaving out both the fact that he'd _always_ expected the unexpected, even before we came along, and the fact that seeing his son in a skirt was still eating at him right now.

"Of course," Miss Jones nodded agreeably, a smile peeking through. "Your sons are quite unpredictable."

"They get that from me," I confessed, suddenly feeling like we were under examination.

She laughed, which was a truly joyous sound, the kind that made everyone around her want to smile. It was no wonder the boys loved her so much. "I don't doubt that for a minute," she assured me. "How are you by the way? Mat and Edi said you weren't coming home until you could walk again?"

I opened my mouth to respond but Carlos spoke up first. "She was making no progress whatsoever at the facility so we made the executive decision to bring her home. Our friend has been working with her and already in the last week she has made more progress than in the entire time she was away from us. At the rate she's improving I expect she'll be walking – with assistance at least – by the end of the week." That was news to me. And it was a little daunting if that's what he was expecting of me. I couldn't handle disappointing him.

"I don't think I can do that," I told him, a tightness beginning to wind up in my chest. "I've only been home a week!"

He placed one hand on my thigh and the other on my cheek, forcing me to hold his gaze despite how flighty I was feeling. "Babe," he intoned, causing me to gasp in a shaky breath. "You can do anything you put your mind to, but nobody is expecting this of you. Not the way you're thinking. We expect you to walk again because you're too stubborn not to. If you don't, that's okay. But what really matters is you're working at it. You're determined to get there. We're just being optimistic." He held my gaze even after he'd finished speaking, making sure that his message sank in and I understood that he didn't mean to put pressure on me. I blinked my eyes closed for a moment and took a deep breath before meeting his chocolate pools once more and giving him a short nod that I was okay.

Turning back to Miss Jones, I kept a firm grasp on Carlos's hand to seep in his strength after my less than stable moment. "Sorry about that," I offered, trying to put a cap on my embarrassment.

"Not at all," she said. "We all have our moments. And this is a difficult time for you and your family."

"The boys," Carlos said rather abruptly, redirecting our attention to the reason we were there. "How are they doing?"

Miss Jones smiled again. She was obviously fond of her job and enjoyed working with children. "Academically, both Eduardo and Matias are well above average for their age," she informed us proudly. My heart swelled at the news. Being that I wasn't exactly book-smart myself one of my biggest hopes was that the boys would take after their father in that respect. To have this woman who was clearly in the know on such matters, given that she spent seven hours a day, five days a week with them was very reassuring. "Eduardo seems very sound in both his gross and fine motor skills for this age group. But Matias seems to struggle." My chest tightened anew at this news, instinctively worrying about my baby. "It's perfectly normal for some children to lag behind at this age, however given other observations I and a couple of other staff members have made, we think it may be a little more complicated than simply being below average in his motor skills."

_Oh God,_ I thought, the worst case scenario running through my head at warp speed. _Please don't let him have a disability._ Carlos squeezed my hand to remind me he was still there to support me. We'd get through whatever it was together.

"It's nothing too bad," she explained quickly, obviously catching the vibe I was sending out. "In fact, in the grand scheme of things, it's really quite minor. You see, his clumsiness combined with other factors, such as rubbing his eyes, tilting his head and leaning over his activity pages closer than the norm, lead us to believe he may be having trouble seeing."

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding as relief washed over me. Carlos's hand tightened on mine, but it wasn't a mere squeeze like usual, where it tightened an released, the tension remained for long moments, even as I confirmed with Miss Jones what she was suggesting. "You think he may need glasses?" I asked, receiving a polite nod in reply. Carlos still didn't let up. I glanced over, getting slightly worried, only to find his blank face firmly in place. "Carlos?" I murmured softly, just loud enough for him to hear the worry in my voice.

"I'm fine," he assured me, but his fingers didn't loosen. In an attempt to force him to relax I started to gently prise his fingers off my own. He released my hand almost mechanically. "I'm okay," he reiterated, stroking up my arm to my elbow before returning to my hand and weaving our fingers together. "We'll get his eyes tested at the earliest opportunity. Everything will be fine."

Once we moved past the fact that Mat needed glasses, Carlos seemed to relax enough to not be so stiff, but I knew something was still bothering him under the surface. I waited until we had said goodbye to the boys and their teacher and made it into the hallway before asking him what the matter was. Typically, he tried to brush it off at first, telling me he was fine, that nothing was wrong, but I knew him well enough to know not only when he was lying but when he was stewing on something. As he steered me down the hall, deflecting all my attempts to draw his thoughts out, I got fed up. Before he could stop me, I had my hands on the wheels of the chair and was forcefully spinning myself out of his grips so that I could face him.

"Talk to me, Carlos," I demanded. "What's wrong?" He was still silent, so I went on. "Is this because your son is less than perfect? Because ne needs glasses? He'll be fine. He'll be _better_. Glasses will help him focus more. He won't have as many accidents. This is a good thing."

He locked his gaze on mine for a moment, and I could see a fire burning behind them. "We had to be told by his teacher, Babe," he pointed out and I finally realised what had his metaphoric panties in a twist.

I shook my head. "Carlos, how often do you do fine motor things with the boys?" I asked him. "It's Miss Jones's job to help the kids perform to their greatest potential and identify any problems they may be having. It doesn't matter that you didn't notice it yourself because there is a team of people here all working to provide the best outcome for the children and they are well versed in the signs and symptoms. You should be grateful."

"I _should_ have noticed it myself," he countered.

"Do you need some time to work through this with a punching bag?" I asked in my you-better-hadn't-need-some-time-to-work-through-this-with-a-punching-bag voice.

He sighed, finally seeing my point. "You're right," he agreed. "I'm being petty. Let's go grab some lunch."

* * *

_Don't foget to review. You know you want to._


	14. Chapter 13

_Sorry it's taken so long. Between rehearsals and work and getting sick and doing a market stall and finding out my uncle has cancer I've been pretty flat out. And when I wasn't flat out I was reading. I've actually read two (three?) really good books recently, which hasn't happened in a while. So here is a little chapter to hopefully get back in the swing of things._

**Chapter 13**

We'd settled into a booth at Pino's and ordered a salad and pizza to share – because he refused to be wholly unhealthy and I refused to _just_ eat rabbit food – when a shiver ran up my spine. At first I thought nothing of it, things like that happen, right? But then it happened again. And again. I started looking around the room, getting the feeling that I was being watched. Being watched was not an unusual occurrence for me, but I usually didn't feel this creeped out. I'd grown accustomed to the Merry Men's eyes on me, so something told me the feeling I was getting wasn't caused by them. I scanned the room briefly, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but then, I wasn't as adept at it as the Carlos. I did manage to spot Lester in the corner, casually texting on his smart phone, though I knew he had the area in his peripherals despite what it looked like.

"Brodie's here," Carlos murmured beside me. I glanced over, expecting him to be eyeballing the man where he was in the room, but instead his head was down as he typed something into his phone. He hit send and lifted his head to scan the room. "Why would he be here?" he asked. He honestly asked why someone would be at a restaurant, I kid you not.

"To eat I guess," I commented, feeling like I was stating the obvious, given the setting, but unable to think of any other reasons. It's logical. Pino's is the go to place to eat in Trenton and a faithful 'Burg hang out. Anyone Brodie asked would have told him Pino's was the best restaurant in town. There was a healthy serve of grease with each pizza and their subs were made to coat your stomach so your wouldn't be really hungry for days. Their salads were a bit perfunctory, according to Carlos, but he dealt with it for my sake. "Where is he?" I asked my husband, laying a hand on his thigh as he continued texting. It was actually starting to get to me. He hardly ever text, and the fact that he was doing so now, when a potential threat was in the vicinity had me concerned. Not to mention this was a first solo lunch in a good while. It was a relief not to have to deal with the twins and their inability to wait.

Carlos tucked his phone back into his pocket and pressed a kiss to my temple as our food was placed in front of us. "He's still out in the parking lot," he informed me, whispering the words straight into my ear. "Brodie's tail met up with our tail in the side street."

Well, at least that gave us advanced warning to be on guard. I didn't particularly _want _to be on guard. Brodie seemed like a perfectly normal guy to me. I hadn't gotten any weird vibes from him. Apart from when he'd asked for help with the crossword. Admittedly, that was a bit weird for a first meeting. Even knowing that the crossword was probably meant to indicate me, I had trouble casting him as the bad guy. "What's the plan?" I asked softly, picking up a slice of pizza and almost suppressing my moan as I watched the cheese stretch off the sides still attached to the rest of the circle.

"We invite him to join us," Carlos said simply. "Keep our suspicions under wraps."

Involuntarily, my eyes widened in horror. "I don't have to share my pizza do I?" I asked, aghast.

A small chuckle emitted from his chest. "Never, Babe."

*o*

Brodie had felt ill at ease ever since a buff man in combat-black and mirror glasses had knocked on his hotel room door mid Saturday morning to hand him his father's crossword. It was like he was being watched, but not that casual admiration he'd received in his youth when he'd been lead runner on the track and field team. It was... menacing. He found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, trying to find the eyes that must be practically glued to him, but there was never anyone there looking suspicious. In fact, sometimes there wasn't anyone there at all.

After spending the morning on the terrace of his rented room, trying to nut out some of his father's bizarre clues and getting more and more frustrated with every passing minute – he was a language expert, how was it he couldn't figure them out? – the eyes he felt staring at him began to intensify. He imagined gazes narrowing and scopes on sniper rifles being refocused, like he had unknowingly become some kind of international threat.

It was then that he decided to go out and get some lunch. Maybe he'd do some sight-seeing after, like a regular tourist. The feeling of being watched didn't diminish during the short drive, in fact, when he pulled into the lot of the pizza place the lady at the front desk had suggested it increased further, squeezing at his insides and making his neck itch. Trying to shrug it off as nervousness about being in an unfamiliar country, Brodie slipped from his sleek new rental car and made his way across the lot and into the restaurant.

He'd ordered and was making his way to a table with his drink when he heard his name called out in an American accent. The accent didn't surprise him, given his current location. The fact that someone might be calling out to him did. He'd spent so much of his time either working or staring at the crossword that he hadn't really met anyone over here that _would_ call out to him. There was that Stephanie, with her oddly familiar blue eyes and kind caring nature, but he-

Brodie glanced in the direction of the voice as it called again to find Stephanie waving to him. She was, as always, accompanied by a well build man dressed entirely in black. _Designated Drivers_, she'd called them. He changed directions and was at her table in an instant, smiling down at her.

"How are ye, Stephanie?" he greeted, thankful for the friendly face in the sea of unfamiliarity.

"Fine," she replied politely. "And you?"

"Oh, you know, gettin' there." Brodie glanced briefly to the man sitting next to her, wondering if he should address the Designated Driver, or if common policy was to act as if he didn't exist. Like butlers.

"This is Carlos," Stephanie indicated the man with a smile. "My husband. Carlos, this is Brodie."

"The crossword guy?" he asked.

Brodie forced a laugh. "That's me."

Stephanie curled her fingers into Carlos's before asking, "Have you gotten any further on that?" Before Brodie had a chance to reply, she added, "Why don't you join us? I'm sure Carlos would love to see if he can help. Do you have it with you?"

* * *

_See that button? Push it and send me your thoughts, pretty please._


	15. Chapter 14

_It seems like every time I update these days I have some kind of excuse as to why it's taken me so long... This time, I invite you to guess who's sixteen-year-old-about-to-finish-highschool sister just announced to the family that she is six months pregnant to her five-years-younger-than-mum boyfriend. Just to put things in perspective, our mother will be 52 this Saturday. That makes the age difference between said sister and boyfriend the same as between me and my dad. Anyway, so that kinda rocked our world a little... And then there was the fact that I've been engrossed in novel after novel that just would not allow me to delve my creative mind into my own stories. But enough about my drama. Here's a new chapter._

**Chapter 14**

"Mom," Edi whined from somewhere behind me as we entered the conference room that afternoon. By the time we'd finished at Pino's Carlos had not only interrogated Brodie subtly, yet extensively, but we'd also given him all the answers we had on the crossword, _and_ it was already time to pick up the kids; which meant I hadn't had a chance to pick Carlos's brains on the Brodie issue with his new information. I'd just have to wait until we had a chance to discuss it with all the guys. He did seem a little more relaxed about Brodie by the time we left him after lunch, but that meant little in the world of Carlos Manoso.

"Mom," Mat said.

I groaned. I knew exactly what was next to come out of their mouths. It was always the same. The moment we got anywhere, especially Rangeman, they complained about being hungry. It was downright embarrassing at times. You'd think I never fed them with the way they complained. I ignored their pleas for my attention for the moment, waiting until I reached my spot at the table before I'd give them what they wanted.

"Mommy," they said together, louder than before. They were right beside my chair as I came to a stop.

"We're hungry," the Merry Men chorused around us.

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to nearest Merry Man. "Snack time," I informed him. "Bring me three sliced apples, a tub of Philadelphia spreadable cream cheese, the caramel ice cream topping from behind the cans of soup in the cupboard, a packet of gram crackers, a bowl, a spoon and a hammer."

He stared at me for a long moment and I couldn't tell if he was trying to remember all the items I'd just rattled off or attempting to figure out what they were all for. Finally, he asked, "A hammer?"

"You're right," I agreed, grinning. I loved playing with their heads. "Your gun will work just fine. Bring me the rest and when you get back I'll borrow your gun."

"Don't you have your own gun, Bomber?" Lester asked, spinning the chair Edi was attempting to climb onto. Edi stumbled and ran around the chair trying to reach the seat and hop on while it was still moving. When Lester did the same to Mat's chair, the boy stumbled a little but managed to stay upright as he followed his brother's lead.

I sent Les an amused look. "Of course I do," I assured him. What I didn't mention was that it was in under the passenger seat of my car.

As the boys rolled their chairs into the open space between me to spin around on, Lester asked, "What do you need a gun for anyway?"

Bobby joined us at that moment from somewhere beyond my line of vision. "Apples and caramel cheesecake dip," he said matter-of-factly. "Duh." And with that, he swiftly left the room, giving the Merry Man I'd pointed to with instruction originally a healthy slap upside the head for not following instructions without question. It always surprised me how confused the newer men could get when faced with me full on. It was like they'd never encountered a slightly insane, 'Burg raised, mother of twin boys who was used to having men ask how high when she told them jump. Surely they had training for that nowadays. I thought Bobby had started including a section on child safety and specific needs for the boys into his basic first aid initiation speech about three months before they were even born. And Tank did some role plays with the new recruits of crazy situations they could encounter working at Rangeman so that the men could get a chance to work through how to handle them, I assumed they were based on past experiences with me.

Lester dumped the boys into their respective chairs and dragged them back over to the table where Hal had just set out two pages of scrap paper with different coloured circles on them, to sets of child friendly chop sticks – the ones that are connected at one end so they're more like tongs – and a small bucket of multi coloured pom poms. As I watched curiously, Hal showed them what they needed to do, picking up an individual pom pom with the chopsticks and placing it in a circle of the same colour.

It seemed like a very big coincidence if Hal and Lester just happened to set up this activity on the day we find out that Mat is struggling with his motor skills and may need glasses. I had a feeling my husband was behind this. Sure enough, when I raised my eyes from the boys I found Carlos at the other end of the table, carefully examining Mat's movements over the top of a file. He locked gazes with me after a moment and I struggled to understand the look he was giving me, but it may have been pain and guilt. Obviously, he still felt he should have picked up on Mat's difficulties. I sent him a reassuring smile that everything would be alright and he nodded before setting the file aside before coming around the table to my side.

"How are your spidey senses where Brody is concerned?" he asked quietly, slipping into a chair and positioning it between Matias and myself.

I hadn't been expecting this question. Yes, I knew he valued my opinions and trusted my gut reactions, but I thought he'd made up his own mind about Brody. "They're pretty quiet," I informed him honestly. "There's something about him that he's either not telling us or he isn't aware of himself, but I don't think he's a threat." I smiled at Bobby as he returned with the apples and caramel cheese cake dip as well as two sealed paper bags and two small rubber mallets, setting them in front of the boys after moving the pom pom activity out of the way. The boys immediately began smashing the biscuits within, creating a great racket in the formerly quiet conference room, but the joy on their faces was worth it. "It feels like there's a connection between us."

Carlos nodded, as Bobby took the mallets back and poured the biscuit crumbs into the small dish beside the dip and apples. The boys immediately grabbed apple slices and dipped them first into the cream cheese and caramel topping mixture then into the biscuit crumbs while Carlos stated, "I don't think he's a threat either, but this crossword still has me on edge."

"Where do we go from here?" I asked

Bobby plonked down beside me on my other side. "Well, first of all," he began, "You enjoy a snack with Mat and Edi. Then you come down to the gym with me for some PT while Mat and Edi wreak havoc on the men with the special Pom Pom Poppers I made for them this afternoon. And then we'll all gather up on the seventh floor for family dinner. You'll go home, put the boys to bed, spend a lovely evening with your husband and in the morning, the lab guys will hopefully have the results of the DNA testing they're currently running on the saliva sample we got off his glass at Pinos." As I stared at him, trying to process what he'd just rattled off, he snatched up a piece of apple, dipped it twice and shoved it in my open mouth. "I expect you down there in half an hour," he added, walking away.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to review._


	16. Chapter 15

_Thanks to the responses to last chapter. I'm currently between books, so I managed to write another chapter on the way to training this morning. Enjoy._

**Chapter 15**

Sweat dripped steadily down my back as I hauled myself into a standing position between the parallel bars Bobby had set up while I was doing my weights training. We hadn't spoken much over the course of the forty-five minutes we'd been down here – me mostly grunting with effort and Bobby telling me I was doing fine – but I was dying to ask about this supposed DNA testing he had the lab guys doing. Clearly, I was missing a vital piece of the puzzle here. Why on earth would they skip from "he's a threat" to "DNA testing" so quickly?

"Ready to walk?" Bobby asked from the other end of the bars where he was fiddling with a video camera he'd just positioned there. Was he planning on recording my attempts?

"Ready to try," I announced with force enthusiasm as the little recording light blinked on, confirming my suspicions.

He rolled his eyes, seeing straight through my false bravado, but instructed, "When you're ready."

I nodded, feeling another drop of sweat roll down my back and soak into the already saturated waistband of my pants. We'd been through the theory of how I was to work this just moments ago and I'd agreed with the processes, but to actually put them into action seemed a rather daunting task now that I was face to face with it. Hesitantly, I walked my hands a little further along the bars before taking the great effort of slowly sliding first one, then the other foot forward so that I was standing straight again. As I blew out a shaking, relieved breath, ready to draw another and try again, a cheer erupted from somewhere behind me. It was quickly followed by another and another as more men joined in.

"Go Steph!" one called.

"You can do it!" came another boisterous cry.

Unable to stop myself, I let out a startled laugh and look over my shoulder. Hal, Cal and Manny were lined up on treadmills, still jogging at a considerable pace as they continued to whoop and holler. Nearby, two men stood with gloved fists hanging by their sides and sweat glistening off their washboard abs, having obviously paused mid spar to cheer me on. Everywhere I looked men were encouraging me with their shouts and cries.

As I shook my head still laughing at their display, they dissolved into a chant.

"Bom-ber! Bom-ber! Bom-ber!"

I turned back to face Bobby, who was grinning from ear to ear, also chanting. He gave me a sweeping arm gesture that I interpreted as "You have the floor." I nodded, gritting my teeth and moving my hands along the bar once more. As I pulled my second foot under me, an all in cheer interrupted the chant. And so it continued until I'd reached the end of the bar. My arms were shaking and the muscles in my legs ached like nobody's business, but I turned around and shuffled my way back down the bars to the chorus of Merry Men encouragement.

When I stood before my wheelchair once more – abstractly making the realisation that Bobby hadn't followed me with it like he promised he would – I turned around again in order to sit back down, my task completed. The yelling died down to excited chatter and I caught sight of the look on Bobby's face. Pure pride shone there and determination filled me.

"I'm going again," I informed him loudly enough that he could hear over the crowd, which promptly erupted once more at my announcement.

Uplifted by their support, I felt as if I could run a marathon if I so chose at that moment, but knowing it was damn near impossible, I settled for sliding my feet along the length of the bar again. I reached Bobby's end to the sound of my cheerleaders' uproar and managed to turn around.

What I saw when I faced the wheelchair end of the bars once more nearly made my knees – which had held up so well thus far – collapse.

Carlos, Matias and Eduardo stood in a little triangle formation, waiting for me to return. The boys were yelling, "Go Mommy!" as they jumped up and down excitedly. My husband merely gazed directly into my eyes, telepathically communicating all the love and encouragement I needed to shuffle my way back to him. With every laborious step I took closer to my family, my heart beat faster.

The moment I'd reached the end of the bars I found myself scooped off the ground and into Carlos's arms. And a good thing too, since I wasn't sure how much longer my legs would hold me. I wrapped my still shaking arms his neck, burying my face in his neck as he tightened his grip.

"And you thought you couldn't do it," he chuckled by my ear before nipping the lobe playfully and whispering how proud he was that I was making such progress. "At this rate you'll be running marathons in three months," he teased between affectionate kisses to my neck, letting me know that what I'd thought were thoughts had escaped my mouth.

"I love you," I murmured, my voice sounding thick as I forced it past the growing lump in my throat. For some stupid reason I found myself on the verge of tears. I tried to stave them off as best I could, but my resolve was lost when Carlos tightened his arms around me again. "Thank you for believing in me," I sobbed pathetically as the first tears burst past the flood gates.

"Babe," Carlos said, managing to sound both concerned and amused as he pulled me back to scrutinise my face. "Are you crying?"

"Yes," I exclaimed, attempting a watery glare. "Now kiss me, or I'll refuse to ever walk again."

Laughing heartily, he obliged my demand, receiving an eruption of whistles and catcalls from the men and two very disgruntled exclamations of, "Eww, gross!" followed by retching sounds and booing from our little men. I was laughing when we broke apart for air, and so was everyone else. The boys were sprawled on the floor pretending to die from the agony of witnessing their parents kiss. Carlos – still carrying me – traipsed over to them and promptly stuck a booted foot on Mat's belly, wiggling it around to elicit those high pitched giggles I loved to hear so much as Bobby did the same to Edi. My men could be so silly.

When everyone had recovered, we left the boys with Bobby so they could 'help' – more likely, hinder – him packing up the bars and such. I let Carlos wheel me all the way up to the seventh floor apartment, where he promptly deposited me on the bed and crawled up next to me.

"Carlos, I need a shower before dinner," I complained as he drew lazy designs on the insides of my arms.

"We'll get to that," he assured me, leaning down to follow the path his fingers were making with his tongue. I remember worrying over the fact that I probably tasted of sweat, but the thoughts were soon pushed from my mind as Carlos's lips claimed mine and his tongue thrust out, seeking entrance.

"I guess the show can wait a bit," I gasped as he released my lips to trail kisses across my cheek to my ear he murmured in agreement.

^o^

"My mom is learning to walk again," Mat informed Tank at dinner that night.

Every now and then the Merry Men organised what they referred to as a family dinner, which consisted of all the "Senior Officers" of the company, plus me, and the twins cramming into the seventh floor apartment for the duration of at least two hours, feasting on the simple yet delicious foods that the men brought to the table in a kind of manly pot luck deal. Tonight we were dining on, well, mostly meat. The guys weren't too good at remembering that some of us weren't as carnivorous as they were. Luckily, Ella had prepared some salads and stashed them in the fridge earlier in the day.

"Yeah," Edi added. "She's gonna run a marafon in three months."

"Daddy said so," Mat agreed.

"Is that so?" Tank asked the boys, casting an amused glance in my direction.

They nodded in unison.

"What's a marafon?" Mat asked, stuffing a corn chip from Tank's plate into his mouth, and chewing with the concentrated look of curiosity still plain on his face.

"It's a really long running race," Tank answered, moving his precious food out of the boys' reach.

"How long?" Edi enquired.

"Reeeeeeaaaaaaallllllyyyyyy looooooooonnnnnnngggggg," Lester chipped in over Tank's shoulder, leaning across him to reach the chicken wings.

The boys turned sceptical eyes first to me and then their father, little creases forming between their brows as they regard the pair of us. Finally, staring directly at Carlos, they asked together, "Are you sure?"

The table burst into laughter at the boys' clear and rightful doubt of my ability to run. They knew me so well. I made a promise to myself, though, that I would run a marathon one day, just to show them.

"I'll be right there beside you," Carlos whispered in my ear.

I cast him a surprised look. "Did I say that out loud?" I asked him.

"Didn't need to," he replied. "The determination is written all over your face."

"When can we go home and play with Toaster?" Edi interrupted, swiftly changing the subject as he knelt on his chair.

"Yeah!" Mat enthused. "I wanna go home and play with Toaster."

The men all looked to Carlos and I with synchronised expressions of "_What the_ -." I'd forgotten that we hadn't told them about the kitten. I decided to let them hang for a while longer, instead telling the boys that they would need to feed Toaster when they got home and then brush their teeth and go to bed, because they had school in the morning. With that enigmatic response, Carlos and I ushered the boys out of the apartment and off home.

* * *

_Did I tell you all that I'm attempting NaNoWriMo this year? I can't remember. Anyway, don't forget to review._


	17. Chapter 16

_I'd have updated yesterday, but it was Mum's birthday, so there were celebrations. Then there was the helping my brother and sister-in-law cleaning their rental house because they're moving to Melbourne (two states away) on Tuesday. And on top of that, it was incredibly incredilby hot. So we all pretty much died of the heat when we got home and I couldn't bring myself to drag my laptop closer to type something out._

**Chapter 16**

The boys were banging around in the bathroom, supposedly brushing their teeth and washing their faces in preparation for bed, though I doubted that was all they were doing. Carlos and I sat on the sofa in the living room, my legs drawn up across his lap as he gave me a much needed massage. His fingers kneaded gently into the muscles, relacing me more with each touch so that I had to wonder how I had possibly survived three entire months without him there to soothe me each night. Phone calls – which were a nightly staple, provided he wasn't on a job – could only do so much. Sometimes I just needed his presence there, as innocent as his fingers entwined in mine, to feel that everything was right in the world.

I relaxed back into the arm of the sofa, leaning my head back and closing my eyes, the familiar sounds of chaos lulling me to sleep the way nothing else could. Mat cried out from the other end of the house and I stiffened briefly with concern, but giggles soon followed. Just boys being boys.

"I should probably go make sure they're getting ready for bed," I murmured, sluggishly attempting to pull my legs out of his grasp. Carlos tightened his grip on my ankles, preventing me from moving even if I did have my former strength back in my legs.

"They're fine, Babe," he assured me. "It doesn't matter if they're a little later to bed tonight. Let them have their fun." When I nodded in agreement, he quietly asked, "Did I mention how proud of you I am?"

I cracked an eye open to peer at my husband, slightly amused. "I think you might have," I allowed.

"I never should have allowed them to shuffle you off to that rehab centre," he said solemnly. "You've made so much more progress working with Bobby in the last week than you ever did with them. You could be running that marathon by now if I'd insisted on bringing you home like I wanted to."

Using my recently located abdominal muscles, I hauled myself into a seated position. "Why didn't you?" I asked, curiosity stealing me. I knew it didn't matter either way, but this was something that had played on my mind for the first few weeks of my rehab stay.

Carlos wrapped one of my curls around his finger, using it to pull me closer. As he pressed his nose to the strands, inhaling my scent, he muttered, "Bobby convinced me that we should follow doctor's orders."

"And who eventually convinced you to spring me from that joint?" I asked.

He smiled at me now, the strand of my hair still positioned over under his nose, but looking more like a curly moustache. "Bobby," he admitted. "He was sick of me complaining that the doctors at the facility wouldn't know if their asses were alight. And you." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "You were so miserable in there without the boys and me and your band of Merry Men."

"Well, I'm glad you let them shuffle me off for a time," I informed him, receiving a dubious look as he raised a single eyebrow, dropping my curl. I rolled my eyes. "I don't think I would have been able to be this independent in my condition if I didn't have that time away where I was _made_ to do things for myself. You'd have coddled me."

"I would never have-."

"When you see me struggling to get my pants on in the morning, what do you want to do?" I interrupted.

"Do it for you," he replied instinctively. "But, Babe, it's only because I love you."

I leaned into his side, swivelling so that my feet were on the ground. "I know. And I love that you were willing to do everything for me if you had to. But we both know I would have gotten frustrated with that. I need room to stretch my wings."

We were silent for a time, listening to the boys fighting in their room. Whether it was a play fight or a real fight, it was hard to tell, but I was happy to be back home, living a somewhat normal life again. I left Carlos while I tucked the boys in and read them a story. They were asleep by the third page of the book, and I made my way as quietly as possible out of their pigsty of a room and back to my husband in the living room. I paused in the doorway at the sight I beheld. Carlos was reclining on the sofa, his feet propped on the coffee table and he'd obviously been attempting to read through a file before he was ambushed.

By the kitten.

Toaster was stood on Carlos's chest, rubbing her face against his chin. In one hand, Carlos held the forgotten file folder, still open, the other, was slowly stroking the small cat's body. The purrs were audible from across the room.

"I think she's smitten," I announced, wheeling myself over. "I'm not going to be replaced by a younger woman, am I?"

Carlos sent me a deadpan look. "You'll always be number one in my life," he said.

I laughed and hauled myself into a standing position, to transfer to the couch cushion beside him. He watched intently, probably readying himself to grab me should I lose my balance. "You know what I think, Carlos," I began, settling into the seat and reaching over to lift the kitten off his chest. "I think this little furry princess has you wrapped around her little paw. You loooooove her, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he stated firmly, though I could tell he was covering up his true feelings by being overly gruff.

"Oh, you want to talk ridiculous?" I questioned, cradling the furry bundle in the crook of my arm as I scratched her belly. "You went from Brodie-is-a-serious-threat, to he-seems-fine-but-what's-up-with-this crossword,-why-don't-we-do-some-DNA-testing-on-him in the course of a day." All I received for that was a short nod. After all these years his silence still frustrates me. "What's the testing for?" I asked bluntly.

"DNA," Carlos replied smoothly. "We're just double checking he has some."

I almost nodded my understanding at that statement. He'd said it so calmly that it took a moment for me to realise that he was making a joke. A bad joke, but a joke none the less. I rolled my eyes at him as he let out a bark of laughter. "I'm serious, Carlos. What do you suspect that you need to do a DNA test on him."

A sigh escaped his lips and he went out of his way to meet my gaze when he replied, "We think he may be related to you."

"Related how?" I asked immediately, like I'd somehow known what he was about to say. "Like, in a case or like, related-related."

"Related-related," he confirmed gently. Thoughts were whirling through my head. _What if we _were_ related?_ How _closely_ could we be related? _Who was his mother?_ "It's logical," Carlos continued in my slightly stunned silence. "Why else would his father's crossword point to you?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment, a reply aligning in my brain. "Because I've got experience tracking people down and an entire company at my fingertips to help me do so?" I said hopefully.

"Maybe," Carlos conceded. "And maybe it helps that you're related as well. You can't deny that there are certain traits that you both share," he added. "Your eyes, for example."

"_That's_ where I've seen them before!" I exclaimed, the words bursting unbidden from my mouth. I'd been puzzling over the familiarity of his eye colour since the first time we met. Carlos looked at me curiously and I explained, "His eyes. They were completely stunning when I first saw them, but also familiar. I just couldn't work out where I'd seen them before."

*o*

I awoke slowly the next morning staring into the sweet little face of Toaster, once again sleeping on Carlos's chest with me. As I became aware of my surroundings, noting the hand in my hair massaging my scalp and Carlos's breathing, I tilted my head back to meet his eyes.

"Your phone is ringing," he informed me. And that's when the buzzing sound reached my ears. I rolled onto my back, glaring the offending piece of technology, vibrating and flashing on the bedside table. As I shuffled across the bed to answer it, my gaze slid to the glowing numbers of digital clock beyond the phone. 5.55am. I groaned. _Someone had better be dead,_ I thought.

"'Lo?" I answered, snatching the phone to my ear.

"Stephanie," came a vaguely familiar voice. "I'm sorry I woke ye."

"It's 'kay," I replied automatically. "Who's this?"

"It's Brodie."_ Oh, right. The Scottish accent should have been a giveaway._

"What's up?" I asked, pulling myself into a seated position leaning against the headboard, recalling that we'd exchanged numbers at lunch the day before.

"I've just solved the last clue left on the crossword," he explained.

I nodded, still waking up. My brain never worked properly before breakfast. "What clue is that?" I asked, before mouthing _Brodie_ to a curious Carlos, still pinned down by Toaster.

"Thirteen down," Brodie recited. "This Latino man is oh so tricky. I was doin' some work early this morning, replying to emails and I came across the answer." He paused as if expecting me to say something. I remained silent. "It's Manoso."

"Manoso?" I asked incredulously, gain Carlos's full attention. "What do you mean?"

"Manoso is Spanish for descriptive similar to tricky," he explained. "Plus the clue contains the words 'man', 'oh,' and 'so.' I'm surprised you husband or one of his men didn't get it."

Carlos was sitting up facing me now, obviously reacting to the look on my face and tone of my voice. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"Thirteen down is Manoso," I murmured. His blank face came slamming down. "You knew, didn't you?"

Instead of confirming or denying, he instructed, "Have him meet us at Rangeman in an hour."

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews to last chapter, keep it up._


	18. Chapter 17

_A little later than I thought I'd get this out, but then again, I had choir rehearsals tonight. And ended up spending the majority of the afternoon discussing possible side effects to drugs I intend on including in my original fiction with Shreek. Aaanyway. Go ahead and read._

**Chapter 17**

At ten to seven in the morning, still rubbing sleep from our eyes, Matias, Eduardo and I entered the comm. floor and headed straight for the break room. We were all dressed and the boys had their bags packed for the day at school, but there just wasn't enough time for breakfast before Carlos was herding us out the door. He'd promised to delay Brodie in security checks to allow me time to eat something before meeting with him.

"Mat," I called forward as the boys hurried ahead. "Bowls, spoons, cups. Edi, Froot Loops, milk, juice." They were already retrieving their items when I swung into the room. I pointed to the first Merry Man to enter my line of vision. "Coffee, stat. In an IV if possible."

I wheeled myself over to the table where Edi stood on a chair, pouring cereal into bowls. He passed them to his brother – who also stood on a chair – as he finished for the milk to be added. Some milk sloshed out as Mat then slid the first full bowl toward me before moving to the next. As quickly as the spill appeared on the table, it was mopped up as simultaneously set a mug of steaming coffee beside my bowl. He then moved to fill the boys' cups with juice.

"Ranger called ahead," he informed me, making sure the boys had napkins tucked into their shirts to save their clothes. "I've been assigned to watch Mat and Edi until oh eight hundred at which time Cal and I are to transport them to school and ensure they arrive safely at their classroom." I nodded my agreement, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

"God," I said around my full mouth. "Is there anything he can't do? He got more done while I was in the shower than I get done in the entire first half of the day." Not only had he called the office to give marching orders, he'd also coaxed the boys from their beds, ensured they got dressed, made their lunches, cleaned the kitty litter, made sure the boys fed Toaster and organised himself for the day – including his own breakfast. All that had been left to do by the time I out and dressed was tying the boys' shoelaces. And I hadn't even washed my hair!

Mat and Edi were giggling, milk trailing down their chins. "Mommy, don't talk with your mouth full," Edi admonished.

"Grandma says only heathens talk with their mouths full," Mat added, nodding his head, sending his crazy curls bobbing in all directions.

I swallowed my food with a roll of my eyes. "Grandma also says that none of us will ever get cookies from her again if turn up with grass stains on our knees one more time," I pointed out. "And we did." With that settled, I returned to scoffing down my breakfast so that I could get on with the day.

*o*

"Let's not beat around the bush," Carlos began when we were all seated, by which I mean Carlos and Brodie had taken a seat, since I was already in my chair. "We're here because of the crossword. I had been harbouring suspicion that you were a threat to Stephanie and by extension my family and my company." He paused letting that sink in a moment before continuing. "The crossword you shared with my wife contains many references to her life."

"They all refer to my life," I murmured, correcting him.

Brodie's expression was shocked. "Reference to yer life?" he asked, like he hadn't heard Carlos properly. "What do ye mean? I understand the clue I solved this morning, but what about the rest of 'em?"

Carlos retrieved a piece of paper from the cargo pocket of his pants and handed it to me. I knew what it was going to be before I even began unfolding it. The crossword solutions. He said nothing, but I knew he was expecting me to explain each reference. I cleared my throat and began at the top.

"_Trenton_," I read out, glancing up at the men. "I don't think I need to explain that one." Carlos gave a slight shake of his head in agreement with me, so I moved to the next. "_Explosion_." Pausing, I tried to think of the best way to explain that one. "Uh. I have a tendency to... That is to say that my cars tend to blow up on me."

"He knows that one too," Carlos put in. "It's how you met."

"Right," I agreed. "Um. _Plum_. That's my maiden name. _Car_. That's to do with the explosions. _Bounty Hunter_. That's what I was before the kids. _Babe_. Carlos's pet name for me. _Black_. That's obviously a reference to Carlos's uniform colour choice. _Bombshell." _I glanced up, embarrassed to say the meaning of that clue.

"She was dubbed the Bombshell Bounty Hunter after a series of unfortunate misshaps years ago. The men still call her Bombshell or Bomber, but it's affectionate now, rather than derogatory," Carlos filled in for me, doing a much better job than I could have.

"_Hungarian," _I read out, moving quickly on so that Brodie didn't have a chance to comment. "I'm of Hungarian descent on my mother's si-."

"My Da told me that my mother was of Hungarian descent," Brodie interrupted, seeming to seize on this fact like a light beacon on a cold, dark, stormy night. His blue eyes were bright. "Could he have bin leadin' me te ye? Do ye think ye might ken me mother?"

I couldn't meet his eyes. Little snippets of conversations were blasting through my thoughts, trying to help me piece something together, but I seemed to be missing a few pieces. Carlos and Bobby suspected Brodie and I might be related. So it was entirely possible, based on this assumption, that I might know his mother. But there was something hinky about it all. My Spidey Senses were tingling in overdrive.

There was a knock on the door, saving me from having to respond right away.

"Enter," Carlos called, and Bobby stepped into the room.

"I have the res-."

At that moment a bagpipe music rang out from somewhere in the room. Brodie fumbled around, trying to retrieve what I assumed was his cell phone from his pocket, casting us apologetic looks. "Sorry," he muttered. "Thought I put it on vibrate." Finally, he pulled the device into the open and took in the screen with a groan. "I should take this. Hello?"

"Feel free to step into the hall," I assured him, gesturing to the door. "We'll wait."

The moment he was out of the room, Bobby lay the file in his hands flat on the desk before us. I scanned the page, taking in the medical jargon and scientific terms and not bothering to even attempt to read through it.

"What am I looking at here?" I asked Bobby.

"The DNA results," he replied at once, pulling a seat out to sit down. He looked to Carlos, seeming to have a question in his eyes, so I looked to my husband, trying to figure out the answer he was sending to his medic. Obviously, I failed. "We've determined that there is a high possibility that you and Brodie are related.

I laid my hand on Carlos's thigh, drawing his gaze to my own. "What aren't you telling me, Carlos?"

He sighed heavily, covering my hand with his and squeezing gently. A vaguely nervous feeling began to bubble in my stomach, threatening to develop into nausea at the slightest provocation. Something told me that Carlos's next words would be life changing. He turned to face me fully, tucking a curl behind my ear as he did so. "Babe," he started, causing my chest to tighten as my heart skipped a beat. His gaze was locked on mine. "We didn't have the lab guys test Brodie's DNA against yours." I nodded warily. "We tested it against your Mom's."

Air gushed out of me like my lungs were balloons that had just come into contact with a needle. I hadn't been expecting that. Sure, He'd told me they suspected he might be related to me, but I thought maybe a cousin or something along those lines. If they were testing my mom's DNA against his, didn't that mean they suspected he was my brother? That my mom was his mom? Lights danced before my eyes for a long moment as I considered this.

"Breathe, Babe," Carlos instructed gently. "Hear us out." He began massaging the fleshing part of my palm just below my thumb to help calm me down. "Bobby?"

As my vision cleared, I turned my gaze to the man in question, waiting for an explanation.

"We figured that if Brodie _was_ related to you, his mother would most likely be in your mother's generation of the family, given that he is between your age and your mother's" he began. "So we thought our results would be more accurate if we used a sample of her DNA rather than yours, as it would not have been... diluted by your father's DNA."

"Right," I breathed, staring almost blankly at him as I processed the information. "And the verdict is..."

"Nothing is one hundred percent without his father's DNA to compare to, but we think he may be your brother."

Stunned. That's probably the best word to describe my state of being at that very moment. Maybe, shocked would do the trick. I gaped at the two men sitting before me. If Brodie was my brother that meant... _the two of you are more alike than you think_... Oh, God! My mother was Brodie's mother. Mom had had an affair in her teens, gotten pregnant and then... I tried to recall Brodie's tale. Grandma and Grandpa had dumped the infant on the guy and sent him packing. How horrible! And...

I blinked hard.

"Grandma Mazur wouldn't have sent the baby away with the man," I announced firmly. "She's not like that." I locked eyes with my husband. "Tell me you think Grandma would be capable of such a thing," I dared. "You've seen her with the boys and with Val's kids. She's incapable of doing such a thing."

"What about your grandfather?" Bobby asked. "Would he?"

I thought back to all the loving memories I had of Grandpa Mazur, trailing him around his home as I had my own father, cuddling into him as he read me bedtime stories that were just vaguely inappropriate for a seven year old girl. I knew he was protective of his family – Daddy informed me of the little heart to heart he'd been made to endure out in the back shed when Mom had taken him to dinner for the first time – but I thought that if push came to shove, the baby would have come under that protection, rather than being cast away.

I shook my head just as the door opened again and Brodie re-entered. "Sorry," he apologised. "My ex-wife. Our daughter's staying with her while I'm away and she appears to have run away from home. Again. I gave her a list of -." He paused, taking in the three of us. "Am I interrupting?" he asked cautiously. "I can go back out if you need a bit more time?"

Carlos stood from the table, giving my hand one last squeeze before stepping away toward Brodie. "I think we're done here," he informed him, extending his hand for a shake. "Thank you for coming in. Stephanie and I will talk to her family and see if we can't uncover a lead to finding your mother." Carlos motioned for Bobby. "Bobby will lead you out. We'll be in touch soon."

* * *

_Before anyone says anything. I consider myself in no way an expert on medical/sciencey stuffs, so all that DNA stuff was completely fudged. I apologise if my theories are wrong. Just accept them as fact for the sake of the story and we can all be blissfully ingnorant together._

_Oh yeah, and don't forget to review._


	19. Chapter 18

_It took, like, a million sittings to get this chapter written. I swear. It didn't help that I decided to have an Avengers marathon last Wednesday, Thursday, Friday instead of sitting my ass down and getting another chapter out. But anyway. Go ahead and read._

**Chapter 18**

"Stand back foul creature!" Edi cried, taking up the defence pose his uncles had taught him, facing his brother. "Tell me where the Princess is or I'll ...I'll, um... take your eyes out with this whachamagicagigy."

We were all four of us, crammed into the optometrist's office. Carlos had made the appointment for each of us to get our eyes tested so that the boys wouldn't be scared by the equipment being used. So far it seemed to be working, though I'm not sure it wouldn't have gone like this had we simply brought them in for their own checkups anyway. The moment we'd stepped into the exam room the boys' jaws had dropped as they took in all the gadgets and doodads. Their imaginations had since gone wild. Currently, they were caught up in a seemingly epic battle between a knight and a wizard. Mat was the wizard, Edi the knight.

"And _I'll_ magicify a giant spider to protect me!" Mat exclaimed in retaliation. "RAWR!"

"Spiders don't go RAWR, doofus!" Edi countered.

"Don't call me doofus, fart face!"

I sighed, glancing to the eye specialist with the eye that wasn't covered by the paddle he'd handed me. "Sorry about the noise," I apologised. "They can get a little excited when they see new things and their imaginations get carried away."

"At least they're not screaming in terror," he replied, taking the paddle from me. "Alright, boys, I'm gonna need to borrow that torture device for a minute," he addressed the boys, using the name Mat had given the chin-stirrup-look-into-you-eyes-to-check-for-disease-thingy earlier. "I've just got to look into your mom's eyes for a bit."

Both their jaws dropped at his statement. "Are you gonna hypnotise her?" they asked in unison, racing to the chair beside their father and climbing up to stand on it so that they were able to see what he was doing. They were absolutely fascinated as the optometrist positioned my head in the chin stirrup and set up the other parts of the divice.

Mat turned to Edi. "I _told_ you I wasn't the bad guy," he said. "He is."

"He's gonna brainwash Mom and turn her into a zombie!" Edi exclaimed.

Carlos chuckled. "Relax, boys, he's not going to turn her into a zombie."

The optometrist turned wild eyes to Mat and Edi. "Oh no, it'll be much worse than that." And then he broke into a convincingly evil laugh. I'd give him an eight out of ten for evilness on that laugh. I was relieved that he got that boys would be boys and was able to ease them into the new experience by playing along with their imaginations. It made the whole ordeal that much more bearable.

When finally, we'd all been examined – Carlos and Matias more than Eduardo or I, as it turns out, Carlos's vision left a bit to be desired – we followed the optometrist back out to the main room. I took Mat and followed the helpful young lady that offered to show us the cool kid's frames while Carlos followed the optometrist to pick out a pair of frames for himself, Edi in tow. We met at the counter several minutes later at which point Carlos told me to take the boys for ice-cream while he paid and he'd meet us in the food court when he was done. I was disappointed that he hadn't asked for my opinion on his frames, or at least shown me the ones he'd picked, but I suppose I could wait. I'd see them soon enough anyway.

"The glasses should be ready to be picked up tomorrow afternoon," Carlos said, sliding into the chair beside me, simultaneously taking a lick of my ice cream cone and wiping the melted ice cream from Edi's chin.

"I thought it usually took a week or two to get them done," I said, frowning as he took another lick. "You could get your own if you wanted one," I added.

"I wouldn't eat a whole one. And I paid a little extra to have them put on the top of the pile."

I moved the cone out of his reach as he ducked in for a third lick. "I _will_ eat and entire cone. If you want more, share with your sons." Hilariously, at my words, the boys both scooted their chairs back so that their cones were out of their father's reach and they started licking faster. "Looks like if you want any more you have to get your own," I reiterated.

Carlos shrugged. "I'll go without," he decided easily. "It'll be dinner time soon anyway."

*o*

"What's the plan for today?" Carlos asked, reaching across me for the loaf of bread I'd conveniently placed out of his reach so he'd have to brush up against me when he eventually needed it, waking up all those scrumptious feelings I loved so much.

It was breakfast time and I was making toast for the boys while he put together their lunch boxes. We'd spoken briefly the previous evening about confronting my mother to find out if Brodie could indeed be my brother or at least a close cousin. He'd mentioned the need to do it sooner rather than later, since we kinda told Brodie we'd be in touch soon with information on his mom – _which was possibly _my_ mom! _I was absolutely dreading having such a conversation with my disapproving mother, though. Just on the off chance that I'd be accusing her of things she didn't do and she got all defensive and cut me off from cake. So, naturally, I'd suggested _Carlos_ do it. Which went down like a lead balloon.

"You're sure you won't talk to my mom for me?" I asked hopefully, passing him the margarine.

Quickly slapping together a couple of sandwiches and closing the lunch box lids, Carlos turned to face me. "No offense to you or your mother, I'm not exactly her favourite person in the world. We don't see eye to eye." He paused, putting foodstuffs back in their respective places before adding in an almost mumble. "And she can be mean."

I couldn't believe my ears. Was he actually admitting to what I thought he was admitting to? "Ricardo Ranger Carlos Batman Manoso," I said sternly. "Are you trying to tell me you're afraid of my mother?"

"Of course not," he said quickly. "We just have a mutual understanding that provided you and the boys are healthy and it's not mandatory family dinner night, we'll stay out of each other's way and pretend that I'm not forever putting my life, and by extension the lives of my wife and children at risk. And since when do I have so many middle names?"

Ignoring his bemused question, I stated, "What you're saying is, you fear her hateful glare and don't want to be accused of snooping into her business."

"That too," he agreed. "I fear her glare almost as much as I fear yours."

"It's settled then," I announced, slapping the toast on a plate.

His brows drew together for an instant, like he was vaguely confused but didn't want me to know. "You'll talk to your mother?" he asked incredulously.

A burst of laughter shot out of my mouth before I could control it. "Hell no!"

"Mommy said a curse!" Mat and Edi accused from the breakfast table.

"She has to put a dollar in the swear jar," Edi proclaimed.

The next thing I knew, Mat was standing beside me with a large plastic jar that had "_No Swearing" _scrawled on the paper taped to the side. I dutifully selected a dollar from the change on the bench and stuffed it inside. As the boys returned to their breakfast, I asked Carlos, "How long have they had a swear jar?"

"A few weeks," he replied, taking the toast I'd just buttered over to the table for them. "They have one here and one in the break room at work. They're saving for new x-box games apparently."

It was a good idea, especially given the amount of times we'd had to tell them to _not_ repeat anything the Merry Men said because half of it was so riddled with swear words you could barely form a coherent sentence out of it by censoring the conversation. But Mat and Edi weren't at Rangeman all the time. "Who polices the one at Rangeman?"

"The boys when they're there," he said. "Or the guys police each other when the mood strikes."

"I bet Lester's a whole lot poorer than he used to be," I commented, glancing down to see Toaster winding her way between Carlos's legs. That cat was absolutely smitten with him. And I had a sneaking suspicion the feeling was mutual. I'd once again woken to find the fluffy cuteness sharing my pillow.

"No doubt," he agreed. "Now back on topic. If you're not talking to your mom about this. And _I'm_ definitely not talking to your mom about it. Then who is?"

I smiled at him. "No one yet. I'm gonna talk to Grandma."

"Touché," he said to me, before turning a stronger voice on his sons. "Finish up and go feed Toaster. It's time to go."

* * *

_Having the boys muck around in the optometrist office was Shreek's idea. She also provided the insult "fart face" because that was her main insult to her older brother when she was little. _

_I have no idea when I will next update, because tomorrow marks the start of National Novel Writing Month and I intend on taking the challenge for the first time in history. I will be scrambling to writed 50 000 words in just thirty days. So I apologise that the next chapter will probably not be out until December (unless I get incredibly distracted from my task and thereby invoke the wrath of Shreek and probably a few other people). If I remember, I will post my progress on my profile page in case you're interested._

_But in the mean time, don't forget to review._


	20. Chapter 19

_I hope you all had a lovely Christmas (or, you know, whatever else kind of holiday you celebrate or don't celebrate at this time of year). I certainly did. I recieved a special pen that converts my writing to typed text, which means that in theory ya'll won't have to wait as long for a chapter once it's actually been written, because a lot of times I will physically write a chapter on the train on my way to and/or from work and then when I get home I have to spend time typing it up. With this new technology I can skip that entire step (at least I can once I get it working properly, it kinda shit itself today). Aaaanyway, I wrote this chapter today, so you may wanna read it._

**Chapter 19**

After a twenty minute conversation with my mother, during which I was forced to give every detail of the boys' optometrist visit the previous day along with how they were going in school and life in general, I finally managed to get out of her the location of Grandma. Of course, I also had to promise that we'd come to dinner that evening, something that I was a bit hesitant to do, given what I was planning on discussing with my grandmother today. I had no idea how I was going to break it to my mother that I'd found my long lost half brother that I didn't even known about – if in fact he _was_ my half brother – nor how she would react to the knowledge that I now knew about what she had done. And quite frankly, I wasn't looking forward to that scene.

Once I got off the phone I made my way to the laundry to put a load of washing on, dodging through the obstacle course of toys the boys had managed to leave in the hall between coming home last night and leaving for school this morning. I was on my way back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of my designated driver for the morning. We'd decided as Carlos was herding Mat and Edi out the door that it was probably easier to just have my driver come here and pick me up rather than Carlos taking the Porsche with the boys and I to drop them off then to work where I'd pick up my designated driver and he would catch a lift back home to pick up the SUV. This way, Carlos already had the SUV and my DD could park their own SUV here for the day while we took the Porsche.

"Just come in," I called, picking up the next toy and plopping it with the collection already in the basket on my lap. "It's open." I rolled forward another couple of feet and snatched up another toy – a pillow in the shape of a battle axe that Hank had given them. When I looked up in order to continue my journey Lester was stood at the end of the hall with his hands on his hips. "Hey Les," I greeted.

"Don't _hey, Les_ me, missy," he frowned. "What would your husband say about what just happened?"

I tilted my head to the side, allowing myself a moment to think before guessing, "Leave the toys for the boys to pick up?"

Lester shook his head, narrowing his eyes at me. "About the door," he prompted. "What would he say about the door?"

"Right," I agreed. "Check the peephole first." Gesturing to my wheelchair I pointed out, "But it's a little more cumbersome a task than usual."

"Beautiful," he warned, stalking down the hall toward me and snatching up the basket from my lap. "What the hell was the front door doing unlocked if you're the only one home?" Rather than wait for my reply he began picking up the toys and plopping them in the basket, clearing the way for me to roll straight through.

"I can do it myself," I told him, ignoring his previous accusations as he placed the basket on the end table.

"And you proved that," he said. "But just because you can do it yourself doesn't mean you have to. I like helping you."

I made my way to the front door, snatching my purse off the side table on the way past, Lester trailing behind probably clenching his fists to stop himself from taking over the responsibility for my forward momentum. "After yesterday's success walking the bars, I'm feeling adventurous," I told him over my shoulder. "What do you say we take the SUV today instead?"

A whining noise escaped his throat as I rolled down the ramp ahead of him. "But I wanna drive the Porsche!" he complained. "God knows I won't be allowed to once you get back on your feet permanently. Ranger will never allow it."

"This isn't about you," I said. "This is about me gaining back more of my independence."

He was silent for the duration of me manoeuvring past the Porsche at the end of the ramp, so I spun around to face him. The view I was met with was utterly pathetic. Lester was doing a fairly accurate imitation of a sad puppy, looking down at me from the porch with big sad eyes and a pouting lower lip. I'm sure if I left him hanging long enough he could squeeze out an actual tear, but instead I rolled my eyes and made my way back to the passenger side of the Porsche. Rather than hefting myself straight from chair to car, though, I decided to stand from the wheelchair by the back window and use my firm grasp on the car's roof to shuffle-walk to the door, where I slid almost gracefully into the front passenger seat.

Lester opened the driver side door and wedged himself behind the wheel, an excited grin on his face, just like the boy's got whenever they got a present. "Thank you so much, Beautiful!" he exclaimed, revving the engine and rolling his shoulders appreciatively. "You have no idea how much this means."

"I didn't do it for you," I lied, buckling my seatbelt as he reversed at breakneck speed down the drive way. "I thought Grandma might like a ride in a sports car for a change."

"Grandma?" Lester groaned, changing gears and proceeding down the road at a much more respectable pace. "That's not fair."

"Consider it a reward," I said. "As a prize for putting up with Grandma's wandering hands, you get to drive the Porsche."

He cut his eyes to me as we reached the end of the street. "Any trade off involving Grandma Mazur is unfair, but I'd be willing to agree to this one if I can have an ice cream."

I shook my head, smiling as we continued out of the neighbourhood. "You're worse than the boys," I told him, directing him to head toward the funeral parlour. "At least Mat and Edi know not to try and negotiate their rewards."

"The boys are five," he retorted. "They haven't learned to always ask for more. I'm planning on teaching them next year."

"I hope you're ready for the mat time when I tell Carlos you're the reason the boys are being disrespectful, then," I countered.

"Fine," he gave in. "I'll buy my own ice cream."

"Damn straight you will," I agreed.

Ten minutes later I hauled myself from the car and plopped down into my wheelchair which Lester had conveniently positioned directly behind me. We found Grandma sitting on a folding chair in the entrance way with a plate of cookies and a cup of tea, seemingly content with her lot in life.

"Stephanie!" she greeted when I rolled in the door.

"Hi Grandma," I replied, coming to a stop in front of her with Lester keeping me between himself and the old woman as a protective barrier. I looked around the empty hall before asking, "What are you doing here so early?"

"There's a midday viewing for the Swanksy brothers," she explained. "I like to get here early so I get a good seat."

"Right," Lester agreed. "Wouldn't wanna miss seeing the dead body."

Grandma beamed up at him, clicking her dentures in the process. "Exactly!"

"Listen, Grandma," I started, trying to think of the best way to word what I needed to say and ask. "I, uh, need to talk to you."

A sparkle lit her eyes as she gazed at me then to Lester behind me. "I thought we were already talking."

"Alright then," I agreed. Nodding my head, I decided to just barrel through it. "I need to ask you something." She said nothing, clearly waiting for me to get on with it, a tactic I'm sure she picked up from a combination of too many crime shows and a lot of time spent studying the Merry Men. "Did, um... Did anyone in Mom's uh, generation date a Scottish college exchange student when they were in high school?"

Her usually kind and pleasant eyes narrowed on my face, her smiling mouth turning down in a frown. "Why do you ask?" she said, rather than answer the question. I couldn't really blame her, it was rather a blunt way of broaching the topic. I could have beaten around the bush at least a little before asking.

I sighed, moving my chair a little to face her more directly. "I met a guy last week," I started. "He's from Scotland. And his reasons for being in Trenton are a bit, well, curious." I took a breath, waiting to see if she was going to say anything. She didn't. "He has this crossword, you see," I continued hesitantly. "It lead him here."

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"The answer to the first clue was Trenton. The place where his mother lived and he was born." _Was that a flash of recognition I saw on her face?_ "But it gets a little weirder," I added, soldiering on. One way or another I had to get it all out there so I could find out for sure if Brodie was indeed related to me. "All the clues pointed to me." I paused again, watching her reaction carefully. She seemed to be trying very hard to keep her surprise in check. "So we figured his father – his father was the one who left him the crossword when he died, by the way – was steering him here to find his family."

She nodded her understanding, but stayed quiet, which was quite uncharacteristic for Grandma. Usually, she had an input for every topic; it's what drove my father mad. The whole situation set my Spidey Senses a-tingling, like I was on the verge of something big. And considering what I already knew about Brodie's DNA, I wasn't going to leave until she confirmed that Brodie was related to us. I already had confirmation, I just needed to hear it from Grandma and find out to whom Brodie belonged specifically so I could point him in the right direction.

Bobby's words ran through my mind, _"We think he may be your brother."_ Then I recalled Brodie's story about his parents when we'd met in the cafe last week. _"She died from complications after the birth."_ Something definitely wasn't adding up here. Which is why I needed whatever information Grandma could give me.

"Anyway," I went on, clearing my voice. "After some more morsels of information from Brodie – that's the guy's name, by the way - Carlos had Bobby and the guys in the lab run some DNA tests. They took Brodie's DNA and also a sample of Mom's, suspecting, given the evidence, that his mother was from our family. From Mom's generation." _Mom_, I added silently.

"And?" she prompted, setting her cookie plate and tea cup aside on the nearby table.

"And the result was positive," I said simply. "We're related to Brodie McKenna. I'd like to know how so I can help Brodie find his family. And I think you have that information."

She sighed, looking older than I'd ever seen before. "I do," she confirmed, meeting my eyes solidly. "I've been waiting the day you came to me with this query ever since you met that husband of yours."

I didn't dare break eye contact, lest I break some spell along with it. My words were soft when I spoke the question that had burning on the end of my tongue. "It's Mom, isn't it?"

* * *

_Whoops... guess I left you a cliffie as usual... Oh well, guess you'll have to review to find out more._


	21. Chapter 20

_Took a break from writing the next chapter of "Late" in order to finish writing this chapter. It's three hours to 2013 here in Queensland, Australia, so I'll go ahead and wish you all a Happy New Year!_

**Chapter 20**

Before Grandma Mazur could either confirm or deny my mother's actions all those many years ago, Lester's cell phone chirped from his belt. He apologised for the interruption and made his way outside to answer it, but the moment he was out of sight my own cell rang out from my handbag. Something was clearly happening. With a sigh, I dug it out and noted Carlos's number displayed on the read out.

"What's up?" I said by way of greeting. "Lester's phone went off moments before mine. I figure this is something big."

"Brodie's car blew up," he informed me.

I was glad I was sitting down, since a wave of dizziness washed over me at his words. At once I was both worried for my possible half brother and relieved that for once it wasn't my own car. Perhaps the bad car karma was genetic after all. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake? My mother was always harping on at me about my explosions and other unfortunate disasters that plagued my – and by extension, her – life. What if it turned out that she actually had two such 'accident prone' offspring. Of course, I'd still be the screw up, since Brodie actually seemed to have a respectable job, whereas I was still working within the Bounty Huntering system. _Although_, there was still the fact that she'd given him up. Perhaps that will work in my favour, allowing me to not be the least favourite child anymore. Then again, maybe she regretted not knowing him all his life, in which case he would be sky rocketed to favourite and I would stay at the bottom of the pile.

Shaking my head to get rid of the thoughts – really, I was thirty six, much too old to be worrying about which of my siblings is mother's favourite – I asked Carlos, "Is he alright? Was anyone hurt? He wasn't in the car at the time, was he?"

"Not in it, no," he answered selectively. "How's your talk with Grandma?"

"We were just about to get to the part where Grandma told me who Brodie belongs to," I told him. "Don't change the subject, was he hurt?"

"He's definitely looked better," he sighed. "Maybe you should bring Grandma over to the hotel."

I rolled my eyes, causing Grandma to chuckle lightly. "And have the cops assume I had some connection to it? No thank you."

"The cops are already here, Babe," he said.

"Fine," I sighed, shifting a little in my chair. "Which hotel? I'll grab Lester and we'll be right over."

"No need, Beautiful," Lester announced, returning to my side. "I've got the deets and my marching orders. You lovely ladies ready to get going? Unfortunately, we don't have time to grab marshmallows for toasting, but I'm sure you can make your own fun once we get there."

"See you soon, Babe," Carlos said in my ear, sounding amused just before the dial tone sounded.

As I dropped the phone back into my purse I met Grandma's gaze. "Would you mind coming with us to check on a little car explosion?" I asked.

She was on her feet before I finished the question, heading for the door leaving Lester and I to trail behind her. "Been a while since I seen a blown up car," she was saying as we reached the bottom of the ramp and she had to pause to try to locate the car. "Last one I even heard about was... actually, that's a bad example, I heard about your car blowing up the other day. Where's the black SUV? I don't see it anywhere?"

"We're in the Porsche," Lester told her, barely containing his excitement, scooting past me to lead the way. "Ranger's letting us drive it since Steph needs the low slungness for ease of access. Isn't that awesome?"

It took no time at all for Lester to get Grandma situated in the back seat and my chair stowed in the trunk. Once he was behind the wheel he looked over his shoulder to the old woman fondling the leather of the seats. "So, I don't mean to press the topic, but before we were interrupted you were about to confirm or deny whether Brodie is Steph's half brother. I'd really like it if we could pick that conversation back up where we left off."

"You sure don't beat around the bush, do you?" Grandma asked Lester as he pulled the car away from the curb.

"No ma'am," he agreed.

"Well, alright." She paused a moment, apparently gathering her thoughts before she spoke again. "What you need to understand about your mother is that she wasn't always such a stick in the mud. When she was in high school she was a bit of a wild child. It all your Granpa and I could do to make sure she didn't make too many stupid mistakes. And then she met Kendrick McKenna. A college exchange student from Scotland. He was suave and exotic and Helen was completely taken with him. We tried to keep tabs on her, but there's only so much you can do with a teenage daughter, you know? Next thing we knew, Helen was six months pregnant and there was nothing we could do about it. Kendrick promised to look after Helen and the baby both, but she wouldn't have anything to do with him."

Lester and I shared a look, and I'm sure we were both thinking the same thing, that it sounded very much like my mother, but we said nothing, allowing Grandma to continue.

"When the baby was born she insisted that she didn't want it. She spoke about giving it up for adoption. Your grandfather tried to talk her out of it for weeks until Kendrick finally came to us with a solution. He said he hated to think of the baby in an orphanage, so he offered to take the child. He promised to take care of it and give it the best life he could."

"And you agreed to it?" I asked.

"We weren't happy about it, but as you know now, a parent will do anything to keep their child happy. So we agreed to it."

"And Mom?"

"She was happy so long as she never had to see either of them again. And she made a complete turnaround once they were gone."

"So she went from being wild and out of control to being, well, Mom just like that?"

"Pretty much," Grandma said, staring out the window. We were all silent for a while as I tried to come up with some kind of comment. For my entire life I'd assumed that my mother had always been the way she has been with me. Morally superior and disapproving of everything. As it turned out she was just as much a screw up as I was. Worse, because I never managed to get pregnant when I was high school.

"So who's car blew up?" Grandma asked suddenly, bringing to my attention that I hadn't actually mentioned that we were going to check on Brodie.

"It's, uh...," I muttered. "It's Brodie. Brodie McKenna."

"I'm going to meet my first grandson?" Grandma said, sounding rather disbelieving. "It's a good thing I'm dressed nice on account of I was planning on going to a viewing."

"Uh, Grandma," I said, interrupting her flow of mild excitement as we pulled into the crowded parking lot behind a marked cop car. "There's something you should probably know about Brodie."

"He's not a telemarketer, is he?" she asked distractedly. One hand was on the release for the back door as she peered out the window curiously. "I hate them telemarketers. They always call when you're sitting down to dinner. Don't they know it's not nice to interrupt an old woman's evening meal?"

Lester sent me a look like he was trying not to laugh before slipping from his seat and moving around the back of the car to retrieve my wheelchair. I attempted to turn further around in my seat so that I could see Grandma more clearly, hoping that the eye contact achieved would lessen the blow of what I was about to tell her. "He was told that when his mother died-."

"Helen didn't die," Grandma pointed out. "She dropped me at the funeral parlour this morning on her way to the grocery store."

"I know," I sighed. "But he was told his mother died of complications after he was born," explained. "He was also told that his grandparents wanted nothing to do with and sent him home to Scotland with his father."

"That's nonsense," Grandma exclaimed as Lester began setting up the wheelchair beside the car. "Of course we didn't want to send him away! We loved him!"

"I thought as much," I said. "I couldn't picture you disowning a little baby. But that's what he was told, so be prepared for him to not be all warm and fuzzy toward you when I mention you're my... our grandma."

"Right." She sounded nonplussed, but there wasn't anything else I could do at this point in time.

"And we haven't exactly mentioned to him our suspicions that he is probably – well, now that we have your confirmation, definitely – my brother, so just be patient until we get to that, okay?"

Before she could respond, Lester opened my door, placing both hands flat on the roof of the car and leaning down to look in at us. "Ready to go, ladies?"

"Sure, why not?" Grandma and I said in a rare moment of unison. While she climbed out the back door, Lester stepped aside to allow me to pull myself from the car into a standing position. I made a little half turn, holding onto the top of the door in a tight grip, to scope out the distance to the wheelchair. It was only a few feet away, but it was a few feet of open ground. Nothing to hold on to. Nothing to lean on. Just the blacktop waiting to catch me when I inevitably fell. I locked eyes with Lester, sending him my _I-know-what-you're-up-to_ face and gestured for him to get his butt over here and help me out if he was going to insist on leaving the chair that far away.

"Lieutenant Dan!" a familiar accented voice called from nearby as I shuffled my away across the small space. "You got new legs!"

Lester and I paused in our progress to glance over toward the ambulance where Brodie sat with his arm in a sling and green whistle little tube in one hand. A couple of uniform cops were standing right beside him, clearly attempting to get a statement, while the paramedic tried to get the green thing out of his hand as he waved it around. I had a feeling he was on painkillers and not entirely with it at that moment. Lester let out a bark of laughter and urged me toward the chair once more.

"Did he just call me Lieutenant Dan?" I asked Lester under my breath. "He seems a little... off today, doesn't he?"

"That's a _green whistle_," he informed me. "It contains a particularly strong painkiller." I sent him a questioning look, wondering how he knew such things. "Bobby has some in his office," he explained. "I've witnessed its use before. Pretty funny."

"And I'm planning on introducing him to my grandmother, who also happens to be _his _grandmother," I added, a hint of sarcasm creeping into my tone. "This should run smoothly enough."

* * *

_Don't forget to show your apppreciation with a review._


	22. Chapter 21

_Fingers crossed this works. I had some issues last night trying to update my original story over on fictionpress and they were only resolved a few hours ago. Annnnyway. I haven't forgotten about all the other stories I have going on at the moment. And this is proof._

**Chapter 21**

By the time Brodie had been released from the hospital with his shoulder returned to it's rightful socket, he was feeling a lot more sober than when we'd first arrived at that scene of the car explosion. Lester had left, replaced by Carlos to keep an eye on both myself and Grandma Mazur as we waited, coming down from our own proximity highs – apparently the drugs in the green whistle were potent enough to affect those nearby if they inhaled deeply and often enough. When Brodie emerged, announcing he was free to leave the – god forsaken – hospital, Carlos ushered us all out to the Porsche where he opened all the doors and ensured we were all safely inside and my chair stowed away before sliding behind the wheel. It was kind of like watching Superman zoom around the car a few times ensuring everyone was strapped in securely before whisking us off.

"Where to now, oh fearless leader?" I asked, grinning.

"Babe," Carlos replied, casting me a quick glance as he pulled out into traffic. I took that to mean 'The drugs are _still_ affecting you?' and decided not to dignify it with a response.

After a few moments Grandma spoke up from behind me. "Boy, it must be lunch time," she said. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse and chase the rider. But only if it was a good looking rider."

As if on cue, my stomach rumbled, and at the same time Brodie made a sound of agreement. Clearly decision had been made. Where we were going now, had to involve lunch.

"We'll head back to Haywood for lunch," Carlos assured me, making me wonder if I'd spoken my thoughts aloud. "That way I can ensure your grandmother is completely sober before we send her back to your parents. And it will also give us all a chance to talk."

_Talk?_ I thought, confused for just a moment, but then I remembered Grandma's earlier revelation about Brodie. My half-brother. "Good idea," I agreed.

Food proved to be the best idea in the world, because by the time we'd made our way through the club sandwiches Ella had sent up to the seventh floor for us, everyone was back to their proper cognitive states, the last residues of the painkillers having been absorbed by the meal. That's when Carlos changed the subject from the carefree banter to suggest we all move to the living area.

I glanced at the clock on the wall as I past, noting that it was already two in the afternoon. Chancer were the conversation we were about to have was going to take more than an hour.

"I texted Tank," Carlos let me know as I transferred myself into the comfy arm chair and he perched on the arm beside me. "He'll pick up the boys from school and take them to the park for a while. He's also going to pick up the glasses from the optometrist before they come back here. Everything's covered until dinner time if we need that long."

I nodded my understanding, thankful that he'd taken to giving me more information than he would have before we'd gotten together. Before, he would have just said something like, "Got it covered, Babe," and left me to wonder if what he had covered was in fact what I was worried about.

When Grandma Mazur took the other arm chair, leaving Brodie all alone in the middle of the gigantic sofa, I felt the need to close the distance. He was my brother, after all, and seeing him lonely tugged at my heartstrings. I easily pushed myself into a standing position – I'd had enough practice at it now that I barely had to think about the action – and began shuffling to the empty cushion beside Brodie, using Carlos's leg as a stabiliser for the short distance.

"Babe?" he questioned, a hand on my elbow to offer extra support, but not stopping me from doing what I was determined to do.

"Is everything all right?" Brodie asked, sitting forward and extending his hand in case I needed it as I moved further away from my husband.

"I'm fine," I assured the men as I plopped down next to Brodie. "I just thought it would be better if I sat next to Brodie for this."

"It's tha' kinda talk now then?" he asked, almost nervously, and then in an obvious attempt to make himself relax he added, "For the record I already ken of the birds and bees."

I allowed a small chuckle to escape my lips. "Oh good," I commented. "You'll be able to follow the logistics fairly easily."

Brodie's eyes narrowed. "Is this about me mother?" he asked, our joking proving useless in calming him as he visible tensed. "I'm no' so sure I want to know anymore. It was me Da's idea for me to come here. I never wanted to know."

"Well that kinda sucks, doesn't it?"Grandma put in, sucking at her dentures.

"Grandma, please," I pleaded, aware that she was probably growing impatient. "We'll get there."

As if he just now recalled the old woman's presence, Brodie cut his eyes to her. Suspiciously, I thought. His gaze lingered there for a long moment before slowly returning to me. "Why is yer grandmother here fer this?" he questioned tersely.

I took a moment to look around the room, locking eyes with first Carlos then Grandma. I hadn't intended on leading with this tidbit of information, but it appeared that I now had no choice. A sigh left my lips as I returned my gaze to Brodie who was now glaring at me accusingly.

"Grandma is here for this because she's your grandma too," I said. I sounded resigned even to my own ears, but before he could get up a full head of steam, I continued with the rest of the information that he needed to hear before he had a chance to pass judgement on my grandmother. "You need to hear me out before you say anything you might regret."

"I won't regret it," he assured me. "I've had my entire life to work out what I wanted to say to my grandparents when I finally met them."

Carlos settled on the edge of the armchair I'd vacated and speared my half brother with one of his withering stares. "I suggest you hold your tongue until Stephanie is finished," he warned, his elbows braced on his knees in a seemingly easy-going stance, but the way his fists clenched told me he was serious. The underlying tone of his entire being right now was _my team of men is just a phone call away to cart you out of the building and out of our lives._ So I thought I should probably get on with this pretty quickly before he lost patience with the seething lump of male I was sharing the couch with.

"The first thing you need to understand is that your mom is still alive," I began, not really thinking about being gentle or breaking things slowly. I had a list of information that needed to be said and I was going to get it out. "She's the one that sent you away with your dad. Grandma and Grandpa wanted to keep you close but Mom didn't want anything to do with you or your dad."

I paused, letting that bombshell sink in.

"You say mum as if the woman is that to you," Brodie said slowly, his eyes cutting to Grandma once more. I could see the wheels turning in his head and knew I had to connect the dots for him.

"She is," I admitted. "My mom is your mom. You're my half brother."

"Yer my sister?" he asked, sounding in part amazed, but also aghast. Clearly the possibility of siblings had never occurred to him, what with both his parents supposedly being dead. I wasn't sure if he was pleased with the news or not, so I got Grandma to recount the tale surrounding his birth once more.

When she was through we all sat there in silence for a beat. For me it was the second time I'd heard the story, and my mind managed to catch on one detail. Grandma had mentioned that Mom had been a wild child, out partying, not caring about consequences. I held up that vision of my mother with the mother I'd known my whole life; the woman who had scolded me for acting out and being my own person. And then there was the fact that she'd professed to never wanting to see the child or the man she'd apparently been smitten with ever again. Mom could be strong willed, but she was a family woman at heart and the puzzle pieces, the small snippets of her life I was considering now, just did not fit together.

I could tell Carlos's thoughts were along the same lines as mine. The signs were miniscule on his face, but I'd learned to read them over the years. He was trying to fit ill shaped puzzle pieces together just the same as me.

"So Helen went from fun loving and out there, to serious and scathing and the only thing that could have set it off was the knowledge that she was pregnant?" Carlos questioned. Grandma nodded agreement with his summary. He sat thoughtfully for another few moments and we all waited patiently for his insight. Well, we waited. I can't say any of us were patient, but I was definitely waiting for his view.

I took the time to examine my brother while I waited, finding it easier to pass the time if I had something to do. He looked to still be processing the information he'd received while staring at my – our – grandma with new eyes. After a few moments he glanced down and touched his pocket where I could see the bulge of his phone. Was it ringing? I couldn't tell, but either way, he didn't answer it.

"Perhaps," Carlos began, drawing all our attention back to him. "The realisation that she had made a –," he glanced at Brodie, as if recalling his presence, and decided to rephrase what he'd been about to say. "Perhaps when she discovered she was with child, she realised that it was because of her wild ways and somehow thought that denying the entire circumstance would erase the situation from her record and allow her to turn a new leaf."

I nodded my understanding.

"We know Helen is an upright citizen. Almost obsessive in her views of the dos and don'ts of life," Carlos went on explaining. "We also know that denial is not a foreign concept for her, may even be as common for her as it is for you, Babe. After all, you had to pick it up from somewhere. My theory is she found out she was pregnant and suddenly decided she wasn't ready for that kind of development. And like a switch being flipped in her brain she changed gears taking on all the ideals she had been  
exposed to over the years and making them her goals, leaving behind her former wild self and everything that went with it. Including Brodie and Kendrick."

It made sense. I was about to agree with him when Brodie suddenly stood with a muttered, "Fer God's sake." He was digging in his pocket agitatedly. After a moment he pulled the phone out and pressed it to his ear. "Aye?" he said by way of greeting, though his tone was just as agitated as his movements had been. He listened for a beat and his entire being seemed to relax. "Lesley," he breathed, sounding relieved and reverted to a guttural language that was probably Gaelic. After a moment more his relief disappeared and his anger rose once more.

I looked to Carlos, confused, but he seemed almost as lost as I was.

"Lesley is the name of his teenage daughter," Carlos whispered to me, just as Brodie dropped his hand to his side, frustration clear on his face.

"Could you call me a cab? I need to go to the airport."

* * *

_Ohhhhhh... what's happened now?_


	23. Chapter 22

_Okay, guys. It's WAAAAY past my bedtime (since I have to be up in about six hours) but HAD TO finish this chapter tonight. I literally would not be able to sleep until it was done. So here it is. _

**Chapter 22**

"Snap!" Mat cried loudly, grinning up at me from behind his brand new glasses with the ninjas on the frames. Tank had picked them up from the optometrist after collecting the boys from school and somehow managed to convince Mat to wear them. Not that I had been expecting him to kick up a fuss about it, he's a good kid generally. It was more that I was dreading all the '_Why?' _questions I would inevitably be expected to answer.

Edi groaned and banged his head against the table, disappointed that he was too slow for this round. We'd played three hands already and I wasn't going easy on the boys, but they'd clearly been practicing recognising same and different, because I was losing. Perhaps it helped that I was distracted, keeping half an eye on Brodie and his daughter who were deep in conversation a short distance away.

The moment Brodie had explained that his fourteen year old daughter had managed to jump on a plane and fly all the way to Trenton without any parental consent or anything, I'd insisted that we would drive him to the airport to pick her up. We'd collected the boys from the break room on the comm. floor, herded everyone into the SUV, – which I managed to get into with almost no help from Carlos – dropped Grandma at my parents' house and headed straight out.

Brodie was livid by the time he spotted his daughter and had excused himself as he pulled her aside and away. He'd been with her ever since. I'd eventually had to pull out a pack of cards to keep the boys entertained. Carlos, on the other hand, was watching the pair carefully. I suspected he was attempting to lip read, though, given the way Brodie had switched to Gaelic earlier when he got the phone call from his daughter, I assume he probably wasn't getting much. As far as I was aware, Carlos could only speak Spanish and English.

"They're coming over," Carlos informed me, standing from the chair next to Mat and coming around to my side of the table to help me up from my chair and assist me in taking a few steps away from the table to meet Brodie and Lesley as they approached.

"Thanks fer waiting," Brodie mentioned, nodding to us both. "This is my daughter Lesley." He gestured to the girl who had wavy auburn hair and the same blue eyes as her father – and me, I acknowledged, knowing that part of the reason Carlos decided so easily to do the DNA test was the fact that our eyes were the exact same colour. "Lesley," he added, "This is yer Aunt Stephanie and Uncle..." He eyed Carlos for a brief moment before asking, "Can she call ye Carlos? Or would ye prefer Ranger?"

"Carlos is fine," I assured him. Val's kids called him Uncle Carlos, as did all his nieces and nephews on the Manoso side, so I didn't see him having a problem with this young girl using his name as well. After all, he _was_ her uncle now.

Lesley's brows drew together as she swiftly turned her head to spear her father with hard glare. "Ye said you didn't have any brothers or sisters," she accused. "How can they be me Aunt and Uncle?"

Brodie, to my surprise, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's a long story, lass," he informed her.

"We've got time now," Lesley pointed out.

"You'll wait until later," he told her more harshly, clearly still trying to get his temper completely under control. "You're new cousins have school in the morning and we still have to get back to Trenton before they can get to bed. Now what do ye say to Stephanie and Carlos for driving me all the way out here to pick ye up?" he prompted sternly.

With an eye roll I would have recognised anywhere – it must be an inherited gesture – Lesley turned to face Carlos and I. "Thank ye," she said solemnly. "And I'm sorry." I was about to tell her it was okay, that this is what family is for, when she added in a mutter, "... that my Da's car blew up again."

"Lesley," Brodie admonished, grabbing her upper arm as if to drag her away for another lecture. Lesley was having nothing of it, though, as she reefed her arm from her father's grasp and took a step away.

"What?" she said. "If it weren't for yer rotten luck with cars they wouldn't have had to drive come. And speaking of which, why didn't ye just call a cab like a normal person?" She paused a moment. "Or ye could have given me the details of where yer staying and I could have caught a cab. Ye didn't have to get them involved."

At that moment, Matias and Eduardo decided to make themselves known. Truth be told, I was surprised they'd managed to go this long without interrupting. Perhaps they sensed the importance of the moment and hung back until they thought it was more appropriate... Who am I kidding, they were mucking about with my wheelchair. I knew because I could see them out of the corner of my eye, pretending it was a space ship. And they announced themselves by Mat pushing Edi into the centre of our little group.

"Mommy, look!" Edi said loudly as he came to a stop. "I'm a race car!"

"It's a spaceship!" Mat corrected.

"Na-ah," his brother countered. "Race cars are cooler!"

"Race cars don't go to Mars," Mat pointed out coming around the front of the chair and attempting to climb up next to his brother.

Edi pushed at Mat's shoulders to prevent his ascent. "I don't want to go to Mars," he proclaimed. "Mars is for babies. I wanna race in the Formal One."

"So long as it's not NASCAR," Carlos commented, lifting Edi out of the chair and setting him on his feet beside Mat.

Rolling my eyes, I kept a firm grasp on my husband as I reached forward and ruffled both my sons' hair. "Mat, Edi," I said, getting their attention, now that they'd calmed down. "This is Lesley. She's your cousin."

It was like someone flicked a switch. One moment, Lesley was haughty and defiant, giving her father a barrel full of sass, and the next she was sweet as pie, crouching down to the boys' level and sticking out her hand for them each to shake. "Nice ta meet ye, Mat. And ye too, Edi," she said with a bright smile for the pair.

"You talk funny," Mat announced.

"So do you," Lesley returned good naturedly. "How old are you?"

"Five and half," Edi informed her proudly.

"Me too," Mat put in.

Edi gave his brother a slight shove out of the way, literally pushing him back out of the spotlight. "I'm older than Mat," he said solemnly.

"Is tha' so?" Lesley asked, seemingly enthralled as Edi proceeded to explain that he was born several minutes before his brother and therefore was the boss.

Carlos decided to step in at that point. Obviously, we'd shared the information of who was born first with the boys when they'd gotten curious, since all their friends had older and younger brothers, but we'd never tolerated either of them trying to boss the other around.

"Edi," he said sternly, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Who's the boss?"

"Mommy," Edi replied quietly.

I couldn't help but grin. That never got old. Carlos had told them one day about a year ago, that I was the boss in the family. I was the boss of Mat and Edi, and I was the boss of Daddy. Except when it came to punishment, of course. Daddy was the authority on punishments. It wasn't that I didn't punish them; it was that Daddy was harsher and scarier.

"We should probably get going," I said to the men. "We'll grab some dinner on the way home."

Carlos nodded and leaned down to ensure that the break was on the wheelchair before straightening and holding his arm out for me to use for balance if I needed it as I lowered myself into the chair. As I settled, I looked up to let Carlos know that I was ready to go and caught Lesley staring.

When Brodie looked to see where my gaze was directed, he grabbed his daughter's hand. "Lesley," he intoned. "It's rude to stare."

"Sorry," Lesley said to me, sounding sincere. "I'm just... why are you in a chair?"

Smiling slightly to let her know it was okay, I explained that I'd been in a car accident and was still learning to walk again. By the time I'd answered her follow up questions about pain, endurance and limitations, we were at the car and Carlos buckling the boys into their seats while I directed Brodie to stow Lesley's luggage in the trunk area.

We stopped for dinner at McDonalds on the way home at which point we attempted to explain the situation where Carlos and I became Lesley's Aunt and Uncle without invoking an angry outburst at the news that Mom had purportedly disowned Brodie before he was even born. She took the information mildly, but was very interested in meeting the woman and, quite possibly, if Brodie was to be believed in his explanation of his daughter's ways, interrogate her until she got to the bottom of the situation. Apparently Lesley had ambitions of becoming an investigative journalist when she finished school.

It wasn't until we cruised into Trenton some time later, the boys sleeping propped up against each other in the back, while I chatted with Lesley and Brodie over the back of the front passenger seat, that Carlos broke the little bubble we'd seemed to have settled into.

"I'd like for the both of you to stay with us tonight," he announced, never once taking his eyes off the road. I'd assumed he was in his zone and wasn't even aware that we were still with him. When Brodie opened his mouth to protest, Carlos explained, "You've been car bombed twice in a week and the second was a close call on your life. For your safety and that of your daughter, I suggest you follow my advice. You will stay with us tonight and we will reassess in the morning. If you choose to return to your hotel tomorrow, I will provide a security detail to trail you in the hopes that it will deter your car bomber until such a time as we identify and locate them."

"We'll be fi-," Brodie attempted, but I shook my head, cutting him off.

"There's no point arguing, Brodie," I said. "His mind is made up."

Lesley smirked. "I thought Mat and Edi said you were the boss," she reminded me.

"Not when it comes to security," I assured her. "He's saved my life more times than I can count. And he'll keep you safe too. Saving people is his weakness."

* * *

_I'm now going to focus a fair amount of energy on finishing this story, since I feel it's close to the end. We're on the home straight, just need to start tying up loose ends._


	24. Chapter 23

_So this chapter took approximately five hours to hand write as the words came to me, and then another two hours of frantically typing to actually get it ont he screen. It is once again, past my bedtime, but I don't care. I HAD to get this update out tonight. Hope you all appreciate it._

**Chapter 23**

"Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea," I mumbled to Carlos as he set me on my feet on the front porch of my parents' house. Behind us, Brodie and Lesley stood on the sidewalk looking a mixture of nervous and determined.

I, too, was nervous and also rather shaky. Not only was I about to introduce my mother to her first born, whom I'm not supposed to even know about, but I'd also been standing up practically all morning. I'd made the decision – without a medical consult, mind you – that if I was going to regain the full, functioning strength of my legs, I had to use them more often.

So, with Carlos's ever present support, I dressed, got breakfast for everyone and made my way out to the car, all without the chair. I sat down to eat and put my shoes and socks on, but that was about it. And provided I was next to a wall, or a surface I could brace myself against, I didn't need any assistance walking. My motions were jerky and unstable at times, but chalked that up to my being out of practice. With time and effort, I'd be walking as smoothly as any accident prone woman could walk.

"Because Brodie has the right to know his mother and at least try to understand why she gave him up," Carlos responded, winding his arm loosely around my waist to ensure I didn't fall back down the steps he'd just carried me up.

"Sure," I agreed. "But that doesn't mean I have to be here, does it? Surely he can meet his own mother without my help. It's not rocket science."

"You're showing support for your brother and also assuring your mother that you're willing to listen to her side of the story before judging her actions," he explained patiently before adding. "And also making sure that neither of them kills the other."

My eyes shot up to his as he pressed the doorbell button. "I am?" I questioned. At the same time, I acknowledged how strange it was to have to ring the doorbell. Mom or Grandma were usually waiting at the door for us when we arrived.

"Yes, you are," Carlos assured me. "And I am too."

At that moment the door opened to reveal my father standing behind the screen. He didn't appear too thrilled at first, probably annoyed that he'd been forced from his chair in the living room to answer the door, but when he saw that it was me a grin split his face and he threw the screen door open, immediately pulling me out of my husband's grasp and into one of the his world famous hugs. The ones he reserved especially for me and his grandsons.

"Pumpkin," he greeted warmly, drawing away and travelling his gaze over my companions. "What do I owe this visit to?"

"I was hoping Mom would be around," I admitted, feeling bad for asking for Mom when he was so readily available. Unfortunately, though, I couldn't achieve what I'd come here to do without her.

Dad took my arm in his and lead me into the kitchen where he insisted I sit down. "Your mother has taken to the bed," he informed me, grabbing plates and coffee mugs from their respective cupboards and setting them on the table. "She has a terrible headache."

I tracked his movements carefully, struggling to reconcile the image of his familiar actions with the man I'd seen in the kitchen only a dozen times in my life – and half of those times were probably beer retrieval missions. My father was a man who sat at the dining table, waiting for dinner to come to him. If he had to cook it was on the grill outside. There mere fact that he knew where plates and cups were kept astounded me, let alone that he seemed at ease here.

As I stared, he set a box of donuts in the centre of the table and made a gruff gesture that Carlos and the McKennas should also take a seat.

"Is Grandma here?" I asked as Dad began pouring coffee for himself, Carlos and me.

"No," he said cheerfully as he got to Brodie. "Coffee?"

"Aye, thank ye," he murmured politely.

That was another strange thing. Dad hadn't asked who the two extras were. That was partly on me, I guess. I should have introduced them straight away, but between the surprise of Dad answering the door and the shock of him being so comfortable in the kitchen, I guess it slipped my mind. That and the fact that I wasn't sure _how_ to introduce them.

"_Dad, this is Brodie, you're wife's first born child."_ Yeah, right, I'll get right on that.

Dad's eyebrows drew together in interest as Brodie spoke, reveal his accent and I'd just opened my mouth to say something when Carlos jumped in and saved me.

"Frank, this is Brodie McKenna," Carlos said, gesturing to the man. "He's in town carrying out his father's last wishes. And this is his daughter, Lesley."

"Nice to meed you both," Dad greeted pleasantly.

It was like a whole other person had taken over him. Like invasion of the body snatchers or something. I was trying to recall what he was like when I was a kid and he would spend time with me and Val without Mom breathing down his neck, and if my memory was correct, this was similar.

"Lesley, would you like orange juice of milk?" he asked, moving toward the refrigerator.

"Coffee is fine," Lesley assured him, plucking a donut from the box when I slid it toward her.

"Not in this house," Dad said firmly. "Children don't drink coffee in this house."

"I'm fourteen," she pointed out, like it made a difference. If you were under eighteen years of age you were not allowed to drink coffee on Dad's watch.

Brodie speared his daughter with a look that said it all. "You're a guest, Lesley," he reminded her. "Juice or milk?"

"We have some chocolate and strawberry flavouring in the cupboard if you would like," I added helpfully. I knew they definitely had some, because Mom always kept it on hand for the kids. No grandchild ever drank plain milk in her house, not even Agnie, because flavoured milk was a special treat they shared with Grandma and Grandpa when they visited.

"Orange juice will do," she sighed, slumping back in her chair.

"So where's Grandman?" I asked Dad as he set the carton of orange juice on the counter while he grabbed out a glass.

"She and your mother had a fight last night," he explained, handing Lesley her juice and finally taking the seat beside me with his own donut and coffee. "Your mother ordered her out of the house. I drove her to that crazy friend of hers myself," he added almost gleefully. That explained his happy mood then. Mom was out of his hair and Grandma was out of the house. He had freedom without having to go to the lodge for the first time in an eternity.

"Do you mind if I go up and talk to Mom?" I asked, popping the last bite of my donut into my mouth.

"Be my guest," he said. "Just don't come running to me when you inadvertently invoke her wrath. I'm too old to be dealing with that dragon."

I nodded my understanding, knowing that despite his words he would defend me if the need arose, and stood to begin my shuffle walk out of the room. I'd just reached the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the bedroom when I realised I had a problem. Luckily for me, Carlos chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen. Probably he'd been monitoring my progress and allowing me my independence to make it this far.

"Need a lift, Babe?" he asked, moving so he was ready to simply scoop me up into his arms like he did for the porch steps earlier.

"Actually," I said, eyeing the stairs in front of me. "I think I wanna try this."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I assured him. "Just don't let me fall." I'd been trying to actually lift my feet as I walked, and surely this was just an extension of that. Lift leg, place on higher surface of next step, use combination of leg strength and death grip on rail to pull myself up, repeat.

"Never," Carlos promised. "I'd sooner jump off the roof of the Rangeman building without any safety precautions."

It took a considerable amount of time and a great deal of effort on my part, and endless patience on Carlos's part, but I eventually made it to the top. Between my grip on the rail and Carlos's arm behind my back, the only way I could have fallen down those stairs was if someone came along and shot Carlos dead then proceeded to prise my fingers off the rail one by one.

And then they would have my father and the Merry Men to deal with.

The moment I was on the second floor landing, I was pulled into a firm, congratulatory hug, which lead to a heated kiss, and several moments of dazed panting.

"Bobby's going to kill us," Carlos informed me.

"Why would he do that?" I questioned, trying to regain my composure.

"He was looking forward to coaxing you up the stairs for the first time since your accident," he informed me.

"We won't tell him then," I suggested, even though I knew al the guys would know I'd walked up stairs before I made it back down them. Carlos wouldn't be able to contain himself. I could see the look in his eyes; it was the exact same one he got when the boys took their first steps. He'd been on the phone to Tank immediately after our celebratory dance. Of course Tank, and a few men who were listening in the background, had demanded video evidence, so we'd spent the rest of the evening trying to persuade them to do it again while we pointed the camera at them.

Turns out our sons were camera shy though, because every time we had the carmera ready, they would just plop down on their diapered bottoms, but the moment the camera was nowhere in reach they were toddling away.

By seven o'clock we'd resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to take the boys into Rangeman for a live demonstration the next morning. Which, of course, got up my mother's nose, because she was supposed to be looking after them that day and she hated missing out on even an hour of time with her only grandsons.

I retrospect I wondered if her attachment to Mat and Edi was fuelled by regret at giving up her own baby boy and then only having girls. I mean, I know I was a bit of a tom boy growing up, but it's not the same. When you have girls you want them to dress pretty and have tea parties, not dress in stained overalls and roll in the dirt.

My thoughts drifted to what life might have been like growing up with an older brother, but were cut short as Carlos pulled me back to reality.

"Can you make it from here?" he asked, hooking a stray curl back behind my ear.

Nodding, I promised, "I'll call out if I need you." And with a quick peck on the lips, I was off down the hallway, my legs shakier than they were this morning thanks to the extra exertion, but my steps the surest they'd been since before the accident.

I made it to the door that lead to my parents' bedroom without incident and made sure to brace myself against the doorjamb as I knocked and called out to my mother.

"Mom?" I said loudly. "Can I come in and talk to you?"

"You've done enough damage," came her weak voice.

I took that to mean she didn't want visitors right now, but eased the door open anyway. As I shuffled my way into the dimly lit bedroom, I took in my mother's position. It was scarily similar to my thinking pose, except that she had a pillow held firmly over her face.

"You know, your body's knee jerk reaction will probably keep you from successfully smothering yourself," I informed her mildly.

Her muffled voice drifted out to me from beneath the padding, sounding hurt and upset. "Go away, Stephanie," she told me. "I'm not in the mood."

Something about my mother in such a state of depression gave me courage – perhaps it was that, with the pillow on her face, I didn't have to look her directly in the eye and risk being turned to stone – and urged me to take three defiant steps further into the room before plopping down on the side of the bed.

"Stephanie," she warned, but the menace that was usually behind such a threat must have gotten lost in the pillow fluff, because the uttering of my name held much less power.

"I just wanna talk, Mom," I told her.

"Why?" You've already judged me."

I let a sigh fall from my lips as I wriggled a little further onto the bed, pulling my legs up and turning so that my back was pressed against the foot board of the bed. This was my favourite position to take up on lazy Sunday morning when I was a child. I'd take one side and Valerie would take the other and we'd untuck the ends of the covers and slip out legs inside so that we were just like Charlie's family from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with people in both ends of the bed.

I didn't burrow my feet into her comforter now, because I had a better appreciation of how much effort went into making beds, but I did curl my legs under myself and snatch up one of the decorative pillows Dad hated so much and hugged it to my chest.

"I take it Grandma told you?" I asked once I was settled.

"She doesn't understand," Mom moaned into the pillow. "She never listens."

Blinking rapidly at that statement, I had to quickly bite back a "_Now you know how I feel,"_ before it managed to slip out. This wasn't about me. It was about trying to understand the way my mother's mind worked. God knows I'd probably bitten off more than I could chew, but I had to at least try, right? For Brodie's sake?

"Why don't you explain to me then?" I suggested, hating the way the words tasted. I didn't like this role reversal business.

"You never listen either!" She exclaimed, dropping her hands to her sides, complete with the pillow. She raised her head to spear me with the hard glare I'd come to expect from her. "How many times did I ask you to get a real job before you married Carlos?" she pointed out.

"How many times did I try to explain that I enjoyed the work I was doing?" I countered.

Rolling her eyes, she let her head drop back and muttered, "Getting in that accident was probably the best thing that ever happened to you."

"What?!" I demanded, tossing the pillow I held aside as I forgot my purpose for being here and allowed my anger to rise. "How can you possibly say that?" I said. "You're my mother!"

"Yes," she seethed, hauling herself into an upright position with her hair sticking out from her head at scary angles. "And as your mother I have been trying to teach you that you have limitations your entire life. I thought you'd learned from the time you jumped off the roof and broke your arm. Clearly, I thought right. You bounced back too quickly. Barely suffered at all. Now you've had to experience the uncertainty of not knowing if you will ever walk again perhaps you'll slow down a bit."

"Like you did?" I spat at her. "You want me to slam on the breaks and live a sad, sorry, regretful life, telling everyone that they're making the wrong choices just like you?" It was harsh, I know, but the words were a long time coming. "I'm not that girl, Mom," I said more calmly now. "I know I'm not invincible, but I like testing the limits anyway."

She gave me a look that said, "_Oh, come on,_" and let out a sigh.

"I'm serious," I said adamantly. "The more I test my limits, the more I realise my limits aren't where I thought they were. Like just now." I paused, making sure I had her full attention before recounting my major achievement. "I've been shuffling around, walking all day. A normal person probably would have left it at least another week before attempting to climb stairs. You know, wait until they're more confident with walking on flat ground and such. But I decided to give it a shot. Sure, it hurt like hell and took a heap of effort, but the fact is, I did it."

"You just decided to try climb some stairs on your own after being home little more than a week?" Mom asked incredulously. My subconscious plan was working, I'd distracted her. "What if you'd fallen? You could have set your recovery back weeks, maybe even months."

"Carlos was with me," I explained. "he supported me the entire way and I'm sure if anything had gone wrong he would have scooped me up and gotten me to safety." Leaning forward a little, I added. "I trust him and he trusts my belief in myself. That is why I felt I could do this. That is why I try new and scary things. Because I know that if I fail, Carlos will be there to help me pick up the pieces and move one."

A long minute of silence passed during which Mom just stared at me and I stared straight back. I knew what I wanted to ask her, the one specific piece of information I wanted to know more desperately than anything else, but I was afraid to put my voice to it and have her lose it again.

"Brodie and his daughter are downstairs," I said instead. Probably, I should have worked up to that little gem by asking her to explain why she gave up her son and why she made such a sudden and complete turn around in her very personality. But my brain was rattled from the argument we'd just had.

"He, what?" she practically screeched.

"He's in the kitchen with Dad and Carlos," I reiterated patiently. "He wants to meet you and allow you the chance to explain your actions."

"I can't" she announced firmly, shaking her head from side to side.

Glancing down at her nightgown, thinking it was the problem I assured her, "He can wait until you're dressed."

"No," she stated. "I _can't_." She ran a hand through her hair, making it stand up even worse than it already was. "I'm the mother that wouldn't even hold him once when he was born. I just sent him away. He's probably been building up a healthy heaping of hatred for me his entire life. I can't face that."

"Actually, he's been building up a hatred of Grandma and Grandpa Mazur all his life until yesterday," I commented, surprising myself with how matter of fact I sounded.

"What do you mean?" Mom demanded.

So I explained how Brodie's dad had told him that Mom had died giving birth to him and that it was Grandma and Grandpa that sent him away.

"Why would he do something like that?" she asked quietly a few minutes later. "It doesn't make sense."

"I don't know," I replied solemnly. "But speaking of not making sense, do you mind if we take a step back and you explain why you gave him up?" I asked cautiously, manoeuvring myself across the expanse of bed between us until I was leaning up against the headboard beside her.

After a moment of hesitation, she scooted closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward her until she could rest her chin on the top of my head. The position was a little more cumbersome than when I was little and she held me like this to tell me stories as a distraction from the nightmares I'd had, but it was familiar and comforting all the same.

"You won't judge me?" she asked quietly.

"Never," I promised, echoing Carlos's statement from earlier. And that was just it. As much as Mom frustrated me to tears some days, she was still my mother and I owed it to her to give her the benefit of the doubt until she explained herself. Judging people got you nowhere.

* * *

_We're getting to the juicy bits! Come on and share the love._


	25. Chapter 24

_I'd like to apologise in advance for this chapter. It's the muse's fault. It was definitely not my decision to end it where it ends... I've been sick and exhausted, please forgive me._

**Chapter 24**

Carlos returned to the kitchen after seeing his wife safely to the top of the stairs to find his father-in-law deep in conversation with Lesley, apparently discussing her schooling, goals and everyday life. Brodie appeared to be monitoring his daughter's words rather closely, making sure she didn't say anything she shouldn't. A smart move. Having Frank find out about his wife's past transgression from a strange, foreign, fourteen year old girl did not sound like a good idea.

Actually, now that he took the current situation in fully having Brodie and Lesley here, talking to Frank before Helen had a chance to explain things seemed a bit thoughtless. Perhaps they should have spoken to Helen first before bringing them around, but then they weren't to know that Helen would be indisposed when they arrived.

As a lull began to stretch through the current topic, Frank turned his attention to Brodie. Carlos reclaimed his seat, his attention divided between listening out for Stephanie and ensuring that Brodie didn't accidentally drop a bombshell.

"Carlos said you're carrying out the last wishes of your father," Frank mentioned, taking another donut from the box. "My condolences."

Brodie inclined his head slightly. "Thank ye."

"What wishes does a Scotsman have that brings his son and granddaughter all the way to Trenton?"

"He wanted me to meet me mother," Brodie stated honestly, casting a quick, nervous glance in Carlos's direction as if making sure he was saying the right thing. Carlos made no comment, nor did he form a facial expression to either approve or disapprove of Brodie's words. He was withholding judgement for the time being.

"And have you?"

"Not yet," Brodie said solemnly.

"What's the hold up?" Frank asked.

Brodie glanced once again toward Carlos, and once again received neither encouragement nor a signal to shut his trap. He was on his own. "She took a bit of effort to track down," Brodie admitted.

True enough. It's hard to track someone down when you're not even aware of the fact that that is what you're supposed to be doing. It wasn't exactly made clear to any of them, given the cryptic clues they had to work off.

Carlos took a sip of his coffee, tilting his head toward the hallway when muffled exclamations reached his ears. Stephanie and Helen had engaged in one of their Burg Famous Arguments, it appeared. He just hoped that it wouldn't hinder the situation. They needed to find out why Helen had done what she did so that everyone could get back to living their normal lives.

Neither Brodie nor Frank seemed to have noticed the faint shouts, so he tuned back into the conversation. If the shouts continued, or if they escalated, he would go diffuse the situation. Until then, he had to trust that his wife had enough experience dealing with her own mother and could handle it on her own.

"I suppose that's where you and Stephanie come in then, Carlos?" Frank was saying around a bite of his donut. "I wasn't aware you were in on the family tracking side of things as well."

"No sir," Carlos said respectfully, earning himself an approving smile.

Even after seven years of being an official family member, Carlos felt it necessary to allow his father-in-law to believe he was in charge. There's nothing worse than a disrespectful son-in-law trying to lord over everyone. They had an unspoken agreement: Carlos showed respect at every turn and if the situation ever arose where Carlos had to take charge with his special skill set, Frank would step back and let him do his job to keep everyone safe.

"We don't do family location as a general rule, except in extra special circumstances."

"So this is an extra special circumstance?"

Carlos nodded, not willing to give up any more details and end up with his foot in his mouth. It was probably safer to change the subject. Sports and children were the best bet to get Frank distracted enough to forget about the current topic.

*o*

I leaned into my mother's embrace, absently acknowledging how foreign it felt. As a rule, we weren't a huggy, affectionate family, though I'm fairly certain that hadn't always been the case. I used to get constant hugs and kisses from my parents when I was little, but they started dying off when I got to high school and it became abundantly apparent that I was not going to do exactly as my mother wanted me to do. I defied her at nearly every turn by not following in my sister's footsteps.

And now here we were, sat on her bed just like when I was seven.

Mom was stroking my hair, and playing with my curls. She'd once admitted that part of the reason she was so attracted to Dad was his big mop of curls when they first met. She had loved running her fingers through it and curling the locks around her fingers. Dad had, in turn, kept his hair longer than was strictly acceptable for many years to accommodate her obsession with it, until Valerie came along and had a tendency to get her tiny hand caught in the masses of hair and he decided it was time to conform and cut it off. Mom had been devastated by the decision, but admitted it was for the best, since she no longer had to spend long minutes retrieving her young daughter's hand from her husband's locks as she cried and struggled.

"You have the right to know," Mom murmured, and I wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure me that I wasn't overstepping a line, despite her original reaction, or if she was trying to convince herself to start the story. Either way, I felt I should probably remind her of a thing or two.

"Is this going to be a quick story?" I asked, turning my head so I could see her face. "I only ask because Carlos, Brodie and Lesley are currently downstairs in the kitchen being entertained by Dad. It may be better if we go down and you tell us all at once, rather than keeping them waiting for ages and having to tell the story twice."

As I spoke, a multitude of emotions raced across Mom's face. Grief, apprehension, and horror were al there, comingling with other less discernible expressions. She was having trouble keeping a grip on her composure, I realised, and I had a feeling that had we not been in her bedroom, she would have downed at least one glass of whisky by now. God only knows what level of hell would break out once we got down to the kitchen where there was easier access to booze.

Her next words surprised me, partly because I doubted she had really heard me, and partly because the only other times I'd heard her even slightly rable like this were when she was admonishing me about my job and felt the need to reference my peers into the lecture. "Who's Lesley? Oh God, how am I going to tell your father? I'm still not ready for this! Why me? Mother was right. I should have listened to her when she said to let Frank know. Why me?!"

_Wow. Just wow._ All I could do was sit and stare at my mother as she descended into a spiral of despair. I never thought I'd see her like this. For all her stern disregard for my life's decisions, she was a strong woman and I admired her for that if nothing else, but right now she was so close to a break down it wasn't funny. Then I spotted the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to flow over and run down her cheeks. That was the last straw.

I pushed off the headboard and made my way to the side of the bed where I forced myself to stand.

"Get up, Mom," I commanded in my best imitation of Tank's drill sergeant voice. "You're stronger than this. You're going to wash your face, do your hair, get dressed and go downstairs to face the music."

She just gaped at me a second, blinking slowly, and I realised this was probably the firmest I'd ever been with my mother without screaming at her. I think we were both in a bit of shock, maybe even awe, until I heard footsteps on the stairs and the spell was broken. They were soft, so I knew it couldn't have been Dad. And there was only one set, so I had to assume it wasn't Brodie or Lesley seeking the bathroom. That left Carlos, and chances were he was coming to check on me, even if he wasn't intending on intruding.

"You go make yourself presentable, and try get your thoughts in order," I said to Mom. "I'll see what Carlos wants."

To my surprised, Mom hopped off the bed the same side as me – the side furthest from the en suite bathroom. As I gawked with a furrowed brow of confusion, she held out her arm in my direction. It took me several seconds to realise that she was offering me a leaning post to get to the door. I looped my arm in hers gratefully and allowed her to guide me around the bottom of the bed to the door just as a light knock sounded. Mom ensured that I had a hand braced against the wall for balance before scurrying back to the bathroom.

I cracked the door open and stuck my head out. "What's up?" I asked my husband where he stood in the hall.

"I couldn't hear anything," he stated flatly, not even a hint of emotion in his face or voice. "I was worried you might have strangled each other and were lying passed out side by side on the bed."

"No strangling," I assured him, opening the door a little wider and taking two small steps out into the hall. I couldn't blame Carlos for worrying. You could always tell when my mother and I were in the same room because there were always raised voices involved. It have that and suddenly must have been a heart stopping moment for him.

"I just got Mom to agree to come downstairs," I explained. "We were actually kinda having a moment."

Carlos gave me a look that clearly said he didn't believe me.

"I'm serious," I said, taking another step away from the doorway. "I could hear mom talking to herself in the bathroom. "She even helped over to the door."

"Invasion of the body snatchers?" Carlos whispered, pulling me into his embrace.

I rolled my eyes at his chest. "You jest, but I was genuinely fearing for my life back there."

He nodded like he understood, and squeezed me a little tighter, as if reassuring himself that I was alright. "Are you ready to come back down? I'm not sure how long it's safe to leave Lesley down there with your father unsupervised."

"Just let me check on Mom." Leaning back a little, I called into the room, "Mom? Take your time getting ready. We'll meet you in the kitchen. Everything will be alright."

I'm not sure if she replied or not because the moment I was finished speaking I was scooped up into the air on a startled squeal. Apparently my husband had made the executive decision that I would not be attempting to walk back down the stairs today. He didn't bother setting me on my feet again until we were beside the kitchen table once more.

"Everything alright, Pumpkin?" Dad asked as I plopped down in the chair beside him.

"Fine," I assured him. "Mom will be down in a minute."

It was, in fact, another seven minutes before my mother appeared in the open doorway to the kitchen. She wore freshly laundered and precisely creased grey slacks, coupled with a soft pink button through blouse. Her hair was perfectly in check and probably sprayed and threatened to stay there. All traces of the scared, vulnerable, insecure woman I had encountered upstairs was gone. In her place was my formidable, opinionated, often scathing mother, the woman who looked down her nose at my very existence if it made hers even slightly less bearable.

As she took a couple of halting steps into the room, I noted that Brodie was staring at her with gritted teeth and a less than pleasant expression. I could only imagine the utter chaos that would break loose id Dad caught him staring like that.

Dad may not show affection in the usual ways, but he loved his wife and was fiercely protective of his family. Recalling this face sent a new stab of apprehension through my chest. We probably should have planned this meeting out a little more. Should have ensured Mom was ready for it; made sure Dad wasn't present. He wasn't a violent man by nature, but there was no telling how he would react to what was about to be revealed.

Hell, I wasn't sure how _I_ was going to react, and I knew half of the story already.

"Frank," Mom said, a slight tremor in her voice as she wiped her hands nervously on her thighs. "Can I speak to you in the hall a moment?"

Dutifully, Dad rose from his seat and excused himself to follow his wife into the hall. They didn't go far; I could still see them from where I sat. Part of me actually wished that they moved out of sight so that I didn't have to witness the agonising conversation.

Mom said something that took a full minute for her to get through before promptly squinching her eyes shut as if waiting for a physical blow of some kind. Dad made a short statement that left Mom with a stunned expression, her eyes wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open, all the colour drained from her face.

My mind was whirling out of control with the possibilities of what he could have said when he stepped forward, encircled her with his arms, pressed a kissed to her forehead and said something else that brought tears to Mom's eyes. Next thing I knew, Dad was out of sight. The front door opened and closed and I heard a car start up and pull away from the house.

All I could think was, _"Are my parents splitting up? Is this the straw that breaks the camel's back?"_ Surely things weren't that bad between them. Maybe Dad just needs some time to come to terms with what Mom just told him. It is a big piece of information to take in.

Looking quite dazed, Mom returned to the room and I was beginning to wish my legs worked properly so I could have run to her and hugged her. She stood beside the table for a long moment before finally turning glazed eyes to me.

"He knew," she whispered, as if she were afraid to speak the words. "He knew all these years and never said anything."

"What?" I exclaimed. "How? When?"

"I don't know," she said forlornly. "He said we'd talk about it later."

Surely this was a dream. Everything was going too smoothly. Apart from our brief conflict upstairs no one had butted heads with anyone else. Where was the screaming? Where was the anger and hate I'd been expecting? Maybe my family really had been body snatched.

Slowly, I met my husband's guarded gaze, wondering if he was as confused as I was, but before we could communicate anything the silence that had fallen in the moments since Mom had made her announcement was broken by a shrill, female voice.

"Can someone _please_ start explaining?" Lesley demanded, tapping her glass on the table. "And also, now that old man Frank is gone, can I have a coffee?"

Brodie's head snapped around to glare at his daughter. "Lesley," he admonished. "Pipe down." Returning his attention to Mom he said, "Sorry, she's still jet lagged."

* * *

_I know, I know, You didn't get any information. Next chapter, I promise. _


	26. Chapter 25

_Writing has been agonisingly slow of late, since all my creative energies have been redirected into perler bead creations. I've covered half my bedroom wall with them. Anyway. Here's a chapter. _

**Chapter 25**

Mom let out a long, low breath, her eyes locked on Brodie, and reached for the coffee pot to fill a mug for Lesley. I'm not sure what – or if – she was thinking. She'd never given coffee to a minor before, but it was probably a good idea, if only to keep her quiet for a few minutes while Mom got her thoughts together and managed to start her explanation.

I watched Mom carefully, ready to stop her the moment she even glanced in the direction of the liquor cabinet. Now was not the time to be intoxicated.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brodie sitting rather more stiffly than before, his hands clasped together tightly and resting on the table, his face struggling to stay blank. By my guess, Mom had about sixty seconds to start talking or Brodie would fly off the handle.

Slowly, Mom took a seat and I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.

"I'm sorry," Mom breathed, still holding Brodie's gaze. "I'm a horrible mother.

Ordinarily, I probably would have agreed with her, just becase I was sick to death of her nagging and disapproval. But seeing the way she was struggling with this confrontation and in light of the memories that had flitted through my head upstairs as we'd shared a moment, I was inclined to say the opposite. She wasn't a horrible mother, she was just a strongly opinionated woman who cared too much about what others think of her.

Brodie opened his mouth to speak, and for a brief moment I thought _he_ was going to agree, and sprout off some choice words on the matter, but at the last moment his expression shifted and he simply said, "Tha' remains to be seen."

My heart did a happy little flip in my chest. He was giving her a chance to explain!

"I was selfish in giving you up," Mom said, no longer meeting Brodie's gaze. She stared, instead, at her fidgeting hands on the table. "No that's not right," she mumbled. "I didn't just give you up, I forced you away."

I noticed Lesley shifting in her seat, looking like she was going to brazenly interrupt again, so I quickly dug through my bag for one of the busy activities I kept in there for Mat and Edi. It was a long shot, but I had to try, the last thing I wanted was for Lesley to undo all the hard work I'd done in getting Mom to come downstairs and talk to us. And like it or not, Mom was Lesley's grandmother, so if things went well today and Brodie and Mom agreed to allow each other in, shed have to learn to respect her. She should show respect to her elders anyway, but I was inclined to chalk her current behaviour up to jet lag.

After a moment of rummaging, my hand landed on what I'd been looking for and I pulled out to place in front of her. She looked from the item to me and back, her brow furrowing a little.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Silly putty," I responded, before adding what I'd told the boys the first couple of times I pulled it out. "Every time you feel like interrupting, give it a squeeze." She looked unconvinced, so I leaned closer to say, "This is an important conversation for your dad, you need to stay out of it for now. Listen in, by all means, but save any questions or statements for later. Let them have their peace for now."

With a roll of her eyes, she slouched back  
in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest The putty remained on the table in its little container. For probably the first time, I realised that this is what I must have looked like, sulking at the kitchen table when Mom tried to get me to talk about my day. Of course, my hair was curlier, and messier, but we had a lot of similar features, including the vivid blue, glaring eyes.

I left the putty where it was in the hopes that she would see my logic and use it if she felt an opinion coming on, and turned my attention back to Mom and the men.

They were all staring at me.

"Uh, shall we continue?" I suggested. Anything to get the focus off me. "Mom, you were saying how you forced Brodie away?"

"Right," she agreed, suddenly taking interest in the laminated table top "I wasn't always like this," she stated, gesturing to herself.

I didn't follow, and apparently neither did Brodie, because he asked, "Nervous?"

"No," she said, shaking her head forcefully, then meeting his eyes. "I'm sure Stephanie has filled you in on what I'm like as a mother."

Now it was Brodie's turn to shake his head, and I found myself mimicking the action. The time since we'd realised Brodie was my half brother had been a whirlwind of activity. One thing after another. I hadn't really had an opportunity to broadcast my views on my mother, except last night, but I hadn't even thought to do so. Probably, it was best if I ept my opinions to myself and let Brodie make his own judgements anyway.

"Oh," Mom breathed, sounding surprised. Like she expected me to bad mouth her at every corner. "Well, she can tell you now. Stephanie, tell him what I'm like."

Ever had that goldfish moment? The one where your mouth is opening and closing but no words are coming out as you stare rather perplexedly around? I had to phrase this just right to avoid poisoning Brodie and Lesley's minds with my own mother issues, and also so that I didn't invoke a fresh wave of her wrath. One wayward word and I could be on a three month cake ban. It's not such a big deal now that I have Ella that I can ask to bake things, I know how to whip up a basic, comes-from-a-box, just-add-water cake mix, but back in the day, such an occurrence would have been utterly devastating.

Finally, my husband came to my rescue, reminding us all of his presence at the same time.

"Helen has strict views on how people, especially her own children, should act. She is very conscious of prying eyes and seeks to spare her family from the gossip hungry community they live in by constantly trying to enforce her views on them. This often leads to tension, discord and arguments, particularly where Stephanie is concerned."

It took me a long moment to process all that he had said. All of it was true, of course, but he'd said it so eloquently that I was briefly unsure if he was actually talking about my mother. The civilised description was apt without being snarky. It sounded like something I'd read in the character profiles the men had me looking over a few years back. I guess it made sense that Carlos would be able to phrase it just right, he always did.

I met my husband's gaze and smiled widely at him, silently broadcasting my appreciation of his save. In return he threaded his fingers through mine and gently rubbed his thumb along the back of my hand. Soothing. Definitely something I needed right now.

I didn't notice in the brief silence that had arisen until my attention was stolen from Carlos by Mom's quietly uttered, "Oh." When I glanced over she was looking a little surprised, and again wondered if she expected us to speak ill of her every chance we got. To tell the truth, I was a little hurt by that thought. Sure, she could be mean and controlling and we rarely saw eye to eye, but she was my mother and I loved her all the same.

"So tha's how ye are now," Brodie said, his tone soft, like he was unsure of what – if anything – he should be saying. "But ye said ye weren't always this way?"

"No," Mom said. "When I was young I was... well, I guess the easiest way to describe it would be to say I was the complete opposite."

I noticed as she spoke she was staring directly at a spot just to the left of Brodie's head making it seem like she was directing her words to him but avoiding making eye contact.

"I never did as I was told. I would run about the neighbourhood wreaking havoc wherever I went. When I got into my teens I started sneaking out at night. I would go to parties, and drink, and make out with boys."

Quick as a flash, Lesley's mouth was open and words were coming out. "Clearly you did a lot more than make-."

"Lesley Anne McKenna," Brodie barked over top of her. His face was turning a dark red and his electric blue eyes were livid. "Ye need to keep yer mouth shut or ye can wait outside 'til we're done here." In his anger, his already thick Scottish accent became even thicker so that it took all my concentration to decipher what he was saying. Between his growling, incoherent words and the irritation flashing in his eyes, I was afraid to make a move for fear that he would turn the combination on me.

Lesley sent an equally scary glare back at her father, but said nothing.

"What do you say?" he prompted sternly, not breaking the stare-down they were locked in.

A beat of silence practically sizzled in the air between them, burned by the harsh heat coming from both their gazes.

"Sorry," Lesley gritted out.

"Doona tell me," Brodie countered. "You yer grandmother."

An angry sigh left her lips, but she turned to face Mom and managed an apology that only sounded slightly scathing.

"It's fine," Mom assured her, which surprised _me._ She'd never shrugged off _my _disrespect. If I had pulled what Lesley just did when I was in my teen I'd have been grounded for a month at least. "This must be frustrating for you. Meeting the grandmother you thought was dead all these years only to learn that she never even tried love or even accept your father. You have every right to be reserved."

"But tha' doesnae mean disrespecting," Brodie added.

"Sure," Lesley grumbled. "Continue then."

As Mom began speaking once more, I silently reached for the tub of silly putty, took the lid off and lifted the contents out before pressing it firmly into Lesley's hands. She rolled her eyes at me, but did not put it down as she once again slouched down in her chair. We were making progress and no one, not even her morbid curiosity and need for the facts, was willing to delay that now that we were on a roll.

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_Progress! Progress! Oh, sweet sweet progress! Aren't you glad I updated?_


	27. Chapter 26

_See what happens when Shreek doesn't join me on my trip to and from work? I get stuff done! Speaking of which, don't forget to read and review her story "A Plum Fairytale". There's some extras at the end of the chapter that show how crazy we are together... and they're just the ones that happen over the internet that we have a record of... can you image the kinds of things we come up with in person?_

**Chapter 26**

It took far less prompting to get Mom to lay out her story that I ever would have thought. In my youth I'd once pestered her to tell me about her first love, but she'd down right refused, insisting that I was too young to understand. Thinking about it now, in light of everything I'd learned so far, she was probably right. No way would I have even thought about obeying her oppressing rules if I'd known what _she_ got up to at my age.

Now, as she explained that she had forced herself every second of her pregnancy not to care about the child she carried beyond ensuring it got the nutrients it required, I was struck by how hard it must have been for her. I remember the awe and adoration I'd had to the life growing within me from the moment I discovered I was pregnant. And that had only doubled when we found out it was twins. To be uncaring about your offspring went against every maternal instinct there was. And my mother had more of those than most.

I reached across the table space between us and wrapped my hand around hers. On the outside it didn't appear to be much, but when we locked gazes I knew she could see the forgiveness and understanding in my eyes. She'd been a teenager when all this happened. Not yet emotionally equipped to deal with such situations in a mature and rational manner. She'd made decisions about her future and stuck to it, and it had haunted her ever since.

"I told Kendrick I never wanted to see him or the baby again," Mom explained, tears falling freely down her face. "And at the time I'd meant it. My father tried to get me to change my mind, told me I would regret it later, but I didn't listen to him." She paused to use a tea towel and dab at her cheeks. "I'd decided what I wanted my future to be and couldn't fit a baby into my plan."

"What was your plan, then?" Brodie asked. I'd expected his voice to be cold, or scathing, but there was no evidence of either. In fact, he was being incredibly understanding for a man who'd believed his entire life that his mother was dead and his grandparents hated him for taking her life. He may even have been more understanding than me, and I was feeling pretty damn understanding right then.

"I wanted to be a chef," she declared wistfully. "I'd discovered a passion for cooking just before I discovered I was pregnant and decided then and there that I wanted to own and run a restaurant. I did some research and found out it would take a lot of commitment. Long hours and little pay for a lot of years. That was no way to raise a child. I figured if I kept the child I'd have to give up my dream. I was indecisive for a while, battling all kinds of emotions, but when I went to bed at night and dreamed, my dreams were never of a family. They were of being head chef in a busy kitchen, the smells and sound of top quality food surrounding me until I thought I would pass out from the utter bliss it brought me."

"So you chose cooking over your child?" I found myself asking. She'd never mentioned being a chef to me before. My curiosity was instantly and undeniably piqued. "You pushed Kendrick and Brodie away. Did you pursue your dream?"

"Fiercely," my mother assured me. "I felt like I owed it to my son to become the best of the best."

"But why?" I questioned, confusion hitting hard and fast. "You said you forced yourself not to care for Brodie from the moment you found out you were carrying him. You wouldn't even hold him when he was born. Why would you feel you owed him anything?"

For the first time since she'd come downstairs, Mom speared me with one of her stern stares. The kind I knew entirely too well from my childhood. "Have you ever tried to no love Matias and Eduardo?" she asked. "Have you ever tried to not care about them?"

I shook my head, not even needing to think about the answer. "Of course not."

"I may have tried to deny any connection with my child, but it was there. And every time I mastered a new dish I thought of my baby and how one day I would reconcile the great wrong I'd dealt him by showing him it was all worth it in the end, because I could now provide for him everything he would have been denied if I'd kept him."

"So what happened?" Lesley spoke up. Though she had disobeyed her father's instruction to keep quiet, no one reprimanded her, because it was the question on all our minds.

"I met Frank," Mom admitted sadly. "My focus changed from cooking to prove my decisions weren't unwarranted to cooking to make a man happy." She paused a moment, taking a deep breath and avoiding looking directly at any of use while she fiddled with the tea towel in her hand. "At the end of my apprenticeship Frank proposed and I accepted. I was twenty three at the time. We were married for a year and I'd gone through a dozen or so kitchen hand jobs when frank suggest we have a child. 'Forget about work,' he'd told me after I'd been laid off yet again. 'Let's make a family. You can cook for the family. We'll never criticise you for over salting the broth.'" She smiled softly, but it was tinged with sadness. "I'd refused, of course, determined to make my way in the culinary world. It only lasted another seven months, though, before I found out I was two months pregnant with Valerie and Frank managed to convince me that all he wanted to do was provide everything I'd ever wanted for and if I was earning my own money he couldn't do that."

"Sounds controlling," Brodie mentioned mildly, just as I was thinking that Dad using so many words to express himself was impossible. Clearly our minds had gone if completely opposite directions with this new section of story.

"He wasn't, though. He just wanted me to be happy." Mom met Brodies eyes solemnly. "And making me happy made my husband happy."

"But you wanted to be a chef," Lesley pointed out. "You wanted to prove yourself."

"I am a chef," Mom smiled. "I cook for my family every day. I get more satisfaction from making sure they are fed than I ever could have dealing with whining customers complaining that their steak is over cooked or their salad is too dry."

"So you just gave in and had another child?" Lesley asked, squeezing the silly putty rapidly. I had a feeling she was currently refraining from saying a lot of things.

Mom shrugged. "I felt ready," she said before looking at the table top and adding. "And making my husband happy was important to me. As long as he was happy and I could watch him adoring our daughter I could ignore any ill feelings I had about giving up on the dream I'd abandoned my child for." As she finished her sentence she met Brodie's eyes hesitantly. "I'm sorry," she uttered.

"I had a good life," Brodie assured her, like the fact that she'd abandoned him didn't matter anymore. "I never wanted for anything."

"I know I did ill by you in those very first moments of your life, but I'd like it if you would let me make it up to you now," Mom said, not quite meeting his eye anymore.

A grin spread across his face. "I think I'd like that too," he agreed.

Suddenly feeling very tired and extremely overwhelmed, I sat back in my chair and a slow, amazed breath leaked out my nose as my vision blurred with tears.

"Are you crying?" Lesley's voice penetrated the light fog I found myself in.

"I was just so afraid that Mom would try to push Brodie away again after he went to all the trouble of figuring out the crossword," I defended my current emotional state. "And relieved that there hasn't been the customary Plum House Screaming Match."

Mom cut her eyes to me, confusion evident as I wiped the moisture from my face with the back of my hand. "What crossword?" she asked.

"The crossword Kendrick left for his son as a vague map to meeting his mother," a familiar male voice explained from the doorway behind me.

I twisted my body, and sure enough there stood my father and grandmother. Silence stretched through the room for a moment or five until I was just starting to work up enough courage to ask the questions in my mind when Dad spoke again.

"I've know about Brodie since the day I asked your father for permission to marry you," he said to Mom, completely blowing my mind. "He explained the circumstances and spoke of his suspicions that the guilt would continue to eat at you. That you wanted to make yourself worthy of the son you never forgot. He also explained that he kept in contact with Kendrick's father once or twice a year, unable to put his first grandchild entirely out of his mind for long. When Brodie's grandfather passed way he kept the line of communication with Kendrick instead, always ensuring that Brodie was well."

He let us process that for a moment as he and Grandma Mazur moved into the room. Carlos, whom had been silently ovserving the situation for most of the conversation, rose from his chair and waved Grandma into it like the gentleman he'd proven himself to be.

"What happened when Grandpa Mazur died?" I asked curiously once we were all settled again, Carlos gently kneading the back of my neck and shoulders.

"Frank took over," Grandma Mazur said. "Your grandfather made him promise that when the time was right Brodie and Helen would meet."

"And that time is now," Frank added.

The tears started flowing from Mom's eyes once more and Dad instantly pulled her into one of the warm comforting hugs he was known for. A man of few words, my father was, but when he spoke, whatever he had to say was worth hearing... Unless he was grumbling about Grandma being a crazy old bat. That could generally be ignored.

Seeing my parents locked in a rare display of genuine lovee and affection was causing all kinds of things to happen in my chest, emotions bubbling and brewing and preparing to spill over. This whole situation was just overwhelming me with happiness and hope. I reached up and placed my hand over Carlos's on my shoulder, squeezing it in thanks that he was so good to me, and he dropped a kiss on my hair, effectively communicating that he felt the same way about me.

"Right," Grandma announced, drawing everyone's attention with that one word as it cut through the mood. "It's almost lunch time. I assume you're all hanging around to be fed."

With a quick glance to Ranger, making sure he didn't have any meetings that he had to get back to the office fore, I confirmed that we would be staying.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, a second later as a realisation occurred. "Brodie, I just remembered your came with us, are you alright to stay?" I felt it was important to offer him an out in case he needed some time to process all the changes that had happened in his life in the past couple of days, especially these last few hours. Before he could answer, though, Lesley jumped in with a reply.

"Of course we're staying," she said in that beautiful accent of hers. "Gran needs to prove her worth with food, ye remember?" The last was said with a wide grin to let us know she was teasing.

"I know just the thing," Mom said, nodding firmly to herself as she stepped out of Dad's arms. She turned to move to the pantry but paused and looked over her shoulder at me. "It may take some time, your beast isn't going to start growling impatiently at me, is it?"

Eager to keep this new teasing side of my mother going, I replied wittily, "Carlos can contain himself just this once, don't worry."

Everyone chuckled at that and I watched as Mom set to work with a twinkle in her eye that was entirely foreign to me.

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_Thanks for reading. Your commitment is greatly appreciated. Don't forget to drop me a line._


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